


To Begin Anew

by Zykaben



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Even I don't know what I'm doing yet, Fix-It, Gen, Ghost gets a second go at it, POV Multiple, Sealed Siblings Ending, They aren't planning on wasting it, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, at first, i will tag as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zykaben/pseuds/Zykaben
Summary: The last thing Ghost remembers before being sealed away with the Infection is Hornet's body on the ground of the Temple of the Black Egg lying next to them.The next thing they remember is waking up in King's Pass and quickly discovering that everything is the exact same as when they first arrived in Hallownest.Ghost won't deny their confusion, but they're more than willing to take this second chance to fix as many mistakes as they possibly can.





	1. Renewal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost thinks the Sealed Sibling ending sucks and is very confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I just finished Hollow Knight a week ago and I feel completely in love with the game and its world (not to mention characters). I came up with this idea and I really wanted to write it out. 
> 
> Thank you for clicking on this fic! I really hope that you enjoy it.

The light inside of them raged and burned and _hurt._

They had thought that they knew pain but this was unlike anything they could have ever imagined. The festering inferno inside of them boiled as chains streaked around them. Is this what their sibling had felt for the countless years that they had held this light inside of them? Ghost didn’t know how any being could bear it, especially one born of the Void.

The Hollow Knight—their sibling—was stronger than they knew.

Through orange-tinted vision, Ghost could make out their sister’s figure, the red of her cloak standing out starkly against the black and silver of the temple. She was still on the ground, unmoving.

It was then Ghost felt an even greater pain.

Their heart—the one that they had always doubted having—broke.

In that moment, Ghost _felt._ They felt true agony, the emotion tearing through them more viciously than any enemy that they had ever faced. Hornet, their sister, a _sibling_ —she would be trapped in here with them. For all eternity, she would be here, bound and sealed with her last remaining family member. Her useless sibling who couldn’t even save a single bug that they had met.

Myla was gone, lost to the Infection in the mines that she thought held her fortune. Tiso, bold and bright and cocky, would lay forgotten amongst the bodies of other fools, only being remembered by an empty shell. The Nailsmith laid far below his forge, his life cut short by his greatest creation. Grimm had died for his ritual and for his— _their_ —child. Cloth’s body would remain in the Queen’s Gardens, laying next to her killer and final victim. The Dreamers were killed by Ghost’s own nail, none ever putting up a fight. And Quirrel, one of their first and only friends in all of Hallownest, had… he had… Ghost couldn’t even bear to think of it now that they could fully feel their reaction.

How heartbreakingly hilarious that the moment Ghost finally, _truly_ felt, it would be while they were powerless to change the tragic ends to so many of their friends.

Ghost was certain that if they had a voice, they would be sobbing and screaming as loudly as they could.

Instead, they stood as the orange light drowned out everything, the pain crescendoing to a roar.

And then…

Nothing.

* * *

Ghost woke up.

Ghost should not have been able to wake up.

Nothing hurt. They somehow felt lighter.

Something was wrong.

Ghost staggered to their feet (when had they fallen?), desperately trying to get their bearings.

It was dark. Too dark and yet not dark enough.

Where was the black of the Temple of the Black Egg? Where was the blazing light of the Infection?

Where was Hornet?

Ghost shook their head. The action was completely useless, but they had seen enough other bugs do it that they simply couldn’t help but try. As expected, their thoughts did not change and yet they somehow felt more steady. They looked around as they got their bearings.

The dark, grey terrain was both familiar to them and completely out of place. How did they get out of the Temple of the Black Egg? How did they get to King’s Pass? Had someone gotten to them and Hornet?

Ghost never knew that they could feel this confused.

They needed answers. Preferably soon.

They had to know if they could still save Hornet. They just wanted to save their sister. They _had_ to.

Ghost raced forwards, jumping up and then activating Monarch Wings in order to soar higher and—

Ghost fell to the ground. They looked up to the platform they had been trying to reach. They jumped again, forcing the Monarch Wings to—

Ghost was ready this time, landing far more gracefully on the ground. Their panic—a feeling that they had long gotten over the novelty of—and confusion only grew as they came to a chilling realization. The Monarch Wings were gone.

Muted horror began to dawn on them and they quickly checked through their inventory. Or rather, they stared at where their inventory _should_ have been.

It was gone. All of it. The Crystal Heart, Isma’s Tear, the Mothwing Cloak, the Void Heart, the Dream Nail—everything they had ever collected was _gone._

They quickly felt their back for the hilt of their nail and were relieved to realize that they still had at least _that_ much with them. But it felt… wrong. Different yet familiar. Resigned but no less worried, Ghost drew their nail to inspect it. It was dull and cracked. Broken. This was not the Pure Nail that the Nailsmith had created for them.

Ghost could feel themself physically _cringe_ at their last memory of the Nailsmith. A bug whose work and dedication they had repaid by murdering him. But they hadn’t known any better, had they? They were still learning that they could feel, that they were _allowed_ to feel. But now Ghost could _feel_ and regret and mourn and hurt over their actions—their murder.

Ghost didn’t understand why bugs ever _liked_ emotions. So far they only ever hurt.

Ghost sheathed their nail, no less perplexed and much sadder than they had been only a few moments before. They still had a mission to do.

They had to get back to Hornet.

* * *

Dirtmouth was dark and quiet, more so than usual. It piled onto Ghost’s mounting sense of unease.

The lights in the shops and the stag station were all off, something that Ghost hadn’t seen since they had first entered the fading town. Elderbug was still standing by the bench, though, and the sight soothed Ghost, if only a small amount. They were a little bit hurt to see that he was no longer proudly wearing the Delicate Flower that Ghost had painstakingly brought to him, but they didn’t have time for that.

Ghost dipped their head towards Elderbug as they passed by, keeping their pace brisk and purposeful. They had only made it a few steps past the bench when they heard Elderbug give a shout of dismay. In any other circumstance, Ghost would have paused and silently implored what was wrong. But Hornet needed them _now_ and Elderbug could wait.

And so Ghost rushed forwards, diving down the well in search of their sister.

They instantly realized that something was off. They didn’t know exactly _what_ it was until they hit the ground.

The Forgotten Crossroads were no longer infected.

A barrage of emotions assaulted Ghost, confusion and dismay chief among them. Tones of hope and incredulous joy whispered at the edges, nearly drowned out by the torrent of all the other _feelings_ that were flooding through them.

Ghost had no idea what was going on and they could barely stand it.

Still, their own feelings didn’t matter at that moment. Hornet’s life took priority. They attempted to activate the Crystal Heart before remembering that it was gone. All they could do was run towards the Temple of the Black Egg as quickly as they could.

It certainly wasn’t the fastest that they had ever moved, but Ghost knew that they had never ran as hard as they did then.

They jumped over tiktiks and husks and crawlids alike, side-stepping stalactites as they raced through the hauntingly familiar tunnels. They didn’t have the time to fight any of the enemies, not when a second could define whether or not Hornet lived and their weakened nail would take too many hits to kill them.

It felt like an eternity had passed when they finally reached the Temple of the Black Egg, the structure void of the sickening orange Infection just like the rest of the Crossroads. Ghost braced themself for the worst and headed inside.

They took in the temple, nearly identical to their first memories of it. The dark walls, the light filtering in softly from the outside and—

Ghost stopped cold in their tracks.

No.

That was…

That was _impossible._

Ghost was sure that if they were an ordinary bug that they would have started shaking.

There stood Quirrel, Monomon’s mask comfortably nestled on his head as he stared at the Seals of the three Dreamers on the door that sealed the Hollow Knight away.

Wrong. Familiar, so tantalizingly familiar, but undoubtedly and irrevocably _wrong._

Ghost wished they could cry.

Quirrel had… he had taken his own life, Ghost was sure of it. At the time they _knew_ what had happened, they had drawn the conclusions and made the connections. But they hadn’t _cared,_ not in a meaningful way. They had treated it as a minor disappointment, like how one would feel about… about… Ghost couldn’t think of a good point of reference.

Now though, everything that they hadn’t felt at the time came crashing into them once again.

Quirrel had always been kind and warm, offering conversation and seeing the wonders of the world that Ghost themself could never see. He was a lantern in the dark, a patch of shade in the scorching sun, a comforting constant that never asked for anything but was happy to offer consolation. It was with painful, aching fondness that Ghost now remembered sitting next to him as they watched the rain in the City of Tears, curiously splashing water at him while at the hot spring in Deepnest, and their first and final together against Uumuu.

They remembered with far too much clarity the exact expression on Quirrel’s face when he removed Monomon’s mask, how he held himself once Ghost had finished killing her, the sound of his voice as he stared across the Blue Lake.

Ghost should have stayed with him. Should have protected him.

They should have been even a fraction of the friend to Quirrel that Quirrel had been to them.

So many regrets and memories were ripping through them, all while Quirrel stood there, taking in the Seals. Ghost clutched at their chest, an empty gesture since they had no beating heart to call their own.

Ghost didn’t understand.

They didn’t _understand._

None of this made _sense._

It was like nothing had ever _happened,_ as if—

Ghost paused.

It was as if… time had turned back.

No. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Going back in time? Them? The Ghost of Hallownest?

… But what if it was?

Ghost continued to stare at Quirrel and the Seals. They released the vice grip they had on their chest and straightened out. Steeling themself, they took hopeful and overwhelmed steps towards Quirrel.

Once they were close enough, Quirrel seemed to notice them and turned to face them. By the Wyrm, Quirrel looked just as Ghost remembered and it _hurt_ so wonderfully.

“Hello there!” Quirrel greeted, throwing a lazy hand up in greeting. “How delightful to meet another traveler on these forgotten roads.”

Ghost felt frozen. Those had been Quirrel’s first words to them, said exactly the same way with the same tone and the same surroundings and the same gestures and the same _everything._

“You're a short one, but you've a strong look about you,” Quirrel continued, seemingly oblivious to Ghost’s distress. “I'm Quirrel. I have something of an obsession with uncharted places.”

Ghost was just about ready to keel over and sob and hug Quirrel tightly. They couldn’t decide which to do or in what order so all they did was keep _staring._ Quirrel was really here and fine and was introducing himself like the two of them had never met before.

Quirrel continued to talk, speaking of the mysteries of the Black Egg and strange markings on the door and his love of marvels.

That’s when Ghost truly accepted it. They were in the past. They _had_ to be. Perhaps there were other explanations—this could be a well-disguised dream or an elaborate illusion but if it weren’t…

Ghost felt them straighten their stance out, squaring their shoulders back and staring at the Seals of the Dreamers dead on.

If this truly was the past, then Ghost would not waste this gift. They would take their second chance and run with it.

This time they would save everyone they could.

No matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter has been knocked out. It's a lil short but I didn't want to drag anything out too much. Let me know if you find any errors in it so that I can correct them!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading the first chapter and please let me know what you think!


	2. Intrigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel finds that this new bug may just be a mystery all their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say Quirrel PoV? No? Well too bad, here it is.
> 
> Also thank you all so much for all of the comments??? I was really surprised to see so many of them so quickly and you're all super nice. You guys are definitely the reason that this chapter got done as fast as it did—ya'll inspired me to really hammer this one out. So thank you all so much!!!  
> (also updates definitely won't normally be this fast, just a warning)
> 
> Now, without further ado, the next chapter!

Quirrel was, to put it frankly, thrilled beyond belief.

He had to admit that he had been somewhat worried about venturing further into Hallownest after he had encountered the bug dressed in a red cloak wielding a needle and thread. She had been less than welcoming, what with her attacking him and all. She had then left as suddenly as she had appeared, her cryptic words trailing in her wake. While Quirrel certainly hadn’t expected to be received with open arms, he also hadn’t been expecting that level of hostility before he had even set foot in the kingdom proper.

Still, it had all been worth it to pass through the empty town of Dirtmouth and exchange a few words with an elderly bug (Quirrel never did quite catch his name) before heading down into the ruins. The feral bugs down here fell easily to his nail, all of them much too slow to truly present a problem to him. 

The first  _ very _ interesting and mysterious thing that he stumbled upon down here was one that he was quick to find—a building resembling a temple that housed a black stone egg with three distinct and strange marks carved into its surface. Something about the markings tickled something in the back of his mind, but every time he tried to chase the dangling thread he would feel his mind fog over. He found himself somewhat anxious yet desperately wishing to know where he had seen something like this before. For now, he simply pushed it to the back of his mind.

There were other things to consider, like the door itself. Quirrel had no idea if the egg could be opened or how one would go about finding out if it was even possible to do so, but that only added to the mystery and Quirrel’s excitement.

When he had seen something approaching him out of the corner of his eye, he had been worried that one of the savage, brainless bugs had made its way inside. Instead he was greeted with the sight of a short bug, staring up at him with inky black eyes. They appeared to carry a worn and dull nail on their back. Quirrel always did his best to not judge at first glances or underestimate others, but wasn’t sure how this one would fare in the ruins with their small stature and broken nail. Still, something about the newcomer spoke of an underlying strength that Quirrel couldn’t quite identify.

_ A strange being indeed, _ Quirrel thought.  _ Perhaps being friendly is the best approach here. _

And so Quirrel introduced himself under the stranger’s blank stare, talking about how he wished to explore the ruins of Hallownest and throwing out a few of his earlier thoughts on the stone egg before the two of them.

“I do so love a mystery,” he found himself saying. “And who knows what other marvels lie even deeper below us…”

When the bug simply continued to stare at him for several seconds after he finished speaking, Quirrel concluded that while not outright hostile, this bug likely wasn’t… all there, so to speak. He turned his attention back to the markings.

He stopped himself from jumping when he felt a small, chilly tap against his arm. Quirrel looked back down at his new company.

The short bug raised a hesitant hand and waved jerkily at him.

_ Ah, _ Quirrel realized.  _ Not mindless, just nervous or shy, maybe both. Or perhaps they’re simply not used to socializing? It’s hard to say at the moment. _

Quirrel waved back, somewhat amused by the other. The movement seemed to make the bug perk up slightly, though their expression didn’t change.  _ A mask then, I suppose. I can’t say I’ve ever seen one quite like it before. _

Something in him felt compelled to continue speaking, so he did. “For so long I've felt drawn here. So many tales full of wonders and horrors. No longer could I resist. I just had to see it for myself. And what a time I chose to arrive! This dead world has sprung to life. The creatures are riled up and the earth rumbles. The air is thick. I wonder what could have brought it all about?”

When he paused, the bug cocked their head to one side, a silent request to continue.

Quirrel let out a huff of amusement. This bug apparently wasn’t much of a talker, but they seemed to be a fantastic listener. And Quirrel was more than happy to keep talking to such an interesting being. He gestured to the other’s worn weapon.

“To persevere in this ruin, that old nail alone just won't be enough,” he continued. When the bug seemed to startle slightly, he was quick to press forward. “Though that's no problem! One only has to look around. Plenty have come before us and most have met their grisly end, many more equipped than you and I. I'm sure they wouldn't mind were a fellow explorer to relieve them of their tools. It's a kindness really. The dead shouldn't be burdened with such things.”

The bug stared at him for a few moments before shaking their head and then reaching for their nail. Quirrel tensed for a moment, wondering if he had offended the silent stranger, but they simply held their nail loosely and, after a few moments of contemplative staring, they wrapped their arms around it and gave it a gentle squeeze. They then fixed their gaze onto Quirrel, head falling to one side again, as if they were asking if Quirrel understood

Quirrel couldn’t help but chuckle at the other’s antics. “I see now! You’re quite attached to that nail of yours, aren’t you? I’m rather fond of my own as well, so I can certainly understand your reservations against replacing it. Still, it is seldom a good idea to place your sentiment over safety. Then again, I suppose that I’m here and putting myself in a spot of danger just to appease my own curiosity, so perhaps I am not the best source on how one should prioritize.”

The bug nodded, seemingly content with Quirrel’s response, and returned their nail back to its spot on their back. The left their gaze to linger on Quirrel again.

“A social bug, aren’t you? Especially for one who does not seem to speak” Quirrel noted. The bug gave a small, unsure shrug. Quirrel simply took it in stride. “Did you pass that town above? What a gloomy little place. And such majesty hidden right beneath! I suppose that's why they've all headed down here. Who could resist such possibilities? Truly a marvel...”

The bug nodded as he spoke, apparently agreeing with his opinions. Quirrel found that even with their silence, the conversation hardly felt one-sided. It was quite nice.

“Now, this might seem terribly rude of me, so I apologize if I am overstepping any boundaries here,” Quirrel started, “but, by chance, do you simply not speak?”

The bug hesitated a moment before shaking their head. They then took their hands up and held them to their throat before shaking their head again, this time more forcefully.

“You’re not  _ able _ to speak?” Quirrel guessed. He was rewarded with a nod. “Well, that certainly explains your stoic silence. Not that it’s a bad thing—it’s quite intriguing, actually. Still, here I am rambling as I please and I haven’t even asked you about yourself. What is it that you go by?”

The bug stared up at Quirrel, somehow getting across their confusion without emoting or moving.

Now it was Quirrel’s turn to be confused. “Do… you not know how to sign?”

The bug slowly shook their head.

_ Stranger and stranger still, _ Quirrel thought.  _ A voiceless bug who does not know how to sign. I suppose that it’s likely that no one ever taught them, but surely they’d have at least some signs of their own? _

“Learning how to might be to your benefit,” Quirrel suggested. “It will certainly make communication much more fluid and clear. But if you find that you don’t mind your current methods, then that is also perfectly fine. Still, I need to refer to you by at least  _ some _ title…”

The bug perked up again holding a hand up and jumping slightly. Quirrel blinked at them.

“… Well go ahead, then.”

The bug nodded seriously. They then straightened themself out, squaring their shoulders back.

They then fell in an overly dramatic fashion, landing clumsily as one arm reached upwards, shaking as it did so. When they seemed to ‘lose strength’, they flopped until they went completely limp. Then, quick as a whip, they bolted upwards with their arms waving above their head, swaying like grass in the wind. After a few moments of this, they dropped their arms and stared expectantly at Quirrel.

Quirrel couldn’t help it. He started laughing, long and hard.

“That was quite a performance!” he managed to gasp out once the guffawing had died down to the occasional giggle. “I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting something of that caliber so suddenly. Your pantomiming was brilliant, just completely unforeseen.”

The bug’s chest seemed to rise. Whether they were proud of the compliment or how they had caught him off-guard, Quirrel was unsure of.

“Now, as for what you were trying to get across to me…” Quirrel brought his hand up to scratch as his chin. “You seem to have passed out rather extravagantly. Are you called Faint?”

The bug shook their head so fast that Quirrel was surprised that their mask didn’t come flying off.

“Not called Faint, then,” Quirrel concluded. “What other words have to do with fainting…”

The bug was already shaking their head again.

“Ah, I see. You didn’t faint. Then… you were pretending to die?”

The bug nodded.

“How morose… but we are a step closer now! Surely you don’t go by Death?”

The bug shook their head. They fell down again before springing back up, their arms once again waving wildly as they did.

“… I’m afraid that I don’t know how to make sense of that,” Quirrel admitted.

The bug seemed to contemplate something before they scrunched up into themself. They then jumped up and threw their limbs in every direction, almost startling Quirrel with the amount of force and speed they did so with.

“You’re going to spook me with those erratic movements of yours—” Quirrel cut himself off as the bug started pointing at him repeatedly as he spoke. “Oh, did I just say your name?”

The bug shook their head, but continued to point.

“I said something related to it then?” Quirrel guessed. It was a shot in the dark, but it paid off when they nodded. “Good, good. Was it the word erratic? No? Movements? Spook—ah, that one, then.”

The bug had a proud look about them.

_ Death and something to do with the word spook… what could they possibly— _

“Oh,” Quirrel realized. “Your name is Specter, isn’t it?”

A  _ very _ slow shake of their head.

“… Ghost?”

_ That _ got Quirrel frantic nods that shook the bug’s—Ghost’s—entire body.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to properly meet you, Ghost,” Quirrel said, amusement coloring his tone. “I don’t believe that I’ve ever played a role in an introduction that spectacular before. I must thank you for the experience.”

Ghost nodded once before turning their gaze to the great stone egg. Quirrel also went back to staring at it for a while longer before he sighed and took a step away from it. Ghost seemed to instantly take note.

“I can’t quite glean anything more from this door and its markings at this time,” Quirrel explained as he started walking out of the structure. “I shall certainly return here, but there is still so much to be explored and discovered here. I am heading back out into the ruins. May our paths—”

Quirrel cut himself off as he glanced back at Ghost and found them silently keeping in step with him instead of still by the stone egg. When Quirrel paused, Ghost did as well. They turned up to look at him.

Quirrel blinked. His mind ran over several possibilities before he spoke again. “Is this your way of asking to accompany me in my search?”

Ghost nodded.

Quirrel contemplated his new companion.  _ While they seem to have an aura of strength about them, how strong are they truly, especially with that broken nail of theirs? And even if they are capable, do I really want someone joining me for this quest of mine? Do I want Ghost to travel with me? _

It wasn’t too hard to reach a decision.

_ They seem to be good company and there  _ is _ safety in numbers. If they prove less than capable, I would rather be able to protect them long enough to get them back to the relative safety of the town above us instead of letting them wander the ruins on their own. _

“I’d be more than happy to have you by my side,” Quirrel finally said. “Shall we go?”

Ghost gave a firm nod and drew their nail. They gestured for Quirrel to lead the way.

Quirrel found that he was already pleased with his decision.

 

* * *

Ghost was  _ ecstatic. _

Quirrel was alive and well and happy and still full of boundless curiosity. And now Ghost would be able to stay by his side for a time, becoming a better friend and offering protection. Not only that, but Quirrel had a name to call them!

Ghost understood why bugs liked emotions now.

All of that pain had been worth it for the absolute  _ joy _ of interacting with Quirrel again. Ghost was already excited to re-meet all of their friends so that they could go through it all over again.

* * *

Quirrel had decided to continue heading east after they left the building that housed the stone egg, pressing forward on his original path. The only real difference was the silent shadow that he had picked up but minutes before.

Quirrel was more wary than usual to engage in fights now that Ghost was with him. While Quirrel never went out of his way to attack any of the savage, mindless bugs in the ruins, he didn’t shy away from them and didn’t hesitate to dispatch them if they attacked him. Ghost was a rather large unknown, though, and Quirrel didn’t wish to find out that the short bug couldn’t handle themself in the heat of battle.  _ Perhaps we should return to Dirtmouth soon and I can spar them? Just so I can get a decent idea as to what their skill level is. _

For now, the two of them would simply keep making their way through the remains of Hallownest.

They had just passed by a corridor with a few of the maddened bugs in it, skirting outside of their field of vision in order to sneak through unseen. Quirrel continued forwards as the tunnel abruptly narrowed, Ghost on his heels.

The tunnel widened once again. Quirrel took in the new surroundings with sharp eyes. This area appeared to be something of a former armory, clubs neatly stacked on racks and shattered glass from the windows lining the edges of the room. As with most of the buildings he had already come across in this part of Hallownest, intricate designs could be seen on the walls and windows alike.

_ Such fine craftsmanship to hold up and remain beautiful after so many years. It’s sad to know that the ones who made this have long since passed. _

Quirrel went to step further into the room. A small, cold hand that grabbed at his arm stopped him. He turned from craning his neck to see all the room had to offer and looked down at Ghost. To his surprise, Ghost’s gaze was fixed across the room, not on him. Quirrel followed their line of sight and felt his eyes widen.

There, on the far side of the room, was a massive bug with one of the huge clubs in hand. It appeared to be resting at the moment, but there was an air of malice around it that instantly set Quirrel on edge.

“Thank you, Ghost,” Quirrel said, keeping his voice soft and low. “I may have very well ran into that being without your guidance. Let us—”

Quirrel gasped in shock as Ghost raced forward towards the hulking bug.

“What are you—”

The bug had noticed Ghost. Quirrel felt his heart stop as it swung down its club, ready to crush Ghost into—

Ghost quickly sidestepped and slashed at the beast with their nail.

Quirrel sprinted towards the two, drawing his own nail to aid his short companion. He took in all that he could in the time he closed the gap between himself and the fight. He was somewhat surprised with the skill that Ghost fought with—even at a glance, Quirrel could tell that Ghost easily had the experience of a trained warrior.

_ Well that’s one less thing to worry about. Now to add ‘Ghost randomly charging at giant enemies’ to that list. _

Once Quirrel reached Ghost’s side, he knew the fight was already half over. The beast before them was certainly strong, but it was sluggish and lacked any real kind of protection. Between Quirrel’s speed and Ghost’s skill, it would be a quick fight.

Quirrel dived and ducked and jumped out of the way of the massive club, always making sure to keep a safe distance between him and the large weapon. Ghost was doing much of the same; going in for a single hit before backing up and repeating the process.

As Quirrel and Ghost took a few paces back, the lumbering monster paused before jumping up and throwing all of its weight into the rocky ground beneath it. While Ghost easily leaped out of the way of the ensuing shockwave, Quirrel hadn’t been quick enough to react and found himself stumbling backwards before falling down. He wasn’t hurt, but every moment in a fight was precious. He scrambled back to his feet just in time to watch Ghost rush forwards.

Something was different. Perhaps it was Ghost’s stance or the exact way that they were holding their nail, maybe it was simply all in Quirrel’s head. All the same, Quirrel watched with equal parts apprehension and curiosity as to what would happen next.

He was  _ not _ expecting what happened. That seemed to be becoming something of a theme with Ghost.

Ghost drew their nail backwards with both hands, as if they were going to start wielding it two-handed or swing it like a club. Instead, they leaped forward and landed on one foot before swinging with more force than should be possible of one their size.

Quirrel could only watch on, astonished, as Ghost spun around with their nail in hand like the world’s most lethal top. Their nail was practically a blur with how fast Ghost was spinning around, orange liquid springing from the brute with every single hit.

Quirrel wasn’t at all surprised to see the beast collapse after a few more slashes. Ghost stopped abruptly and with perfect control, the air around them rushing away from them, the breeze brushing against Quirrel.

And, just like that, the fight was over and Ghost was bounding past the corpse to something on the other side of the room. Quirrel hurried after them.

“Um, so—”

Once again, Quirrel found himself stopping to watch as Ghost hurried towards something he hadn’t seen before: a glass jar containing a small, young grub. The child seemed to immediately perk up when Ghost drew near. Swiftly and with great care, Ghost smashed their nail into the glass, shattering it. The grub gave a joyous squeak before burrowing into the ground, presumably to head back to wherever it called home.

It was then that Ghost sheathed their nail and trotted back over to Quirrel, an almost skip-like quality to their steps. They tilted their head back to look up at Quirrel, their arms gently swaying beside them.

Quirrel cleared his throat. “It seems that you have something of a heroic streak about you, my friend. Just, ah, be sure to warn me the next time you wish to do something like that.”

Ghost’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly and they nodded. It came across as sheepish to Quirrel, but there was no real way to be sure.

“It’s fine,” Quirrel reassured them, just in case. “I’m more than happy to help out those who need assistance. I just wish to be prepared for if it happens again. And I must say, you did a brilliant job of spotting that grub and taking down that beast. It was quite impressive.”

Ghost’s posture shot up again and the swaying picked back up again as they nodded frantically at Quirrel.

Quirrel laughed lightly and reached down to pat his companion’s head. Ghost seemed to startle something fierce at the contact, but before Quirrel could pull away they were leaning into the touch. Quirrel gave a few more gentle pats before pulling his hand back.

“We should press onwards,” Quirrel said. “If this is the excitement that the entrance of Hallownest has to offer, then I am eager to see what else awaits us further below.”

Ghost nodded and waited until Quirrel started to move before starting to match pace with him. Quirrel cast a sideways glance at them.

_ Well, this will  _ certainly _ be very interesting. _

_ I can’t wait. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write over a thousand words of Quirrel and Ghost doing charades? Maybe.
> 
> And yes, Ghost still has the three Nail Arts. While they no longer have any of the possessions they accumulated, Ghost still has all their memories and the Nail Arts are a learned skill. Thus, Ghost still knows full well how to use them.
> 
> ... also, not gonna lie, I have no clue if I'm doing Quirrel justice or not. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading this. I hope that you liked it!


	3. Pick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost visits the mines to save an old/new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3? Completed.
> 
> Also BIG shoutout to NudibranchParty, my new beta. He's a big part of the reason that I'll be able to catch more typos and fix things before I post. You're the best, my dude.
> 
> Not to mention all the comments and kudos and bookmarks that I've been getting! You guys are so nice and supportive and all have legitimately good criticism. I won't always incorporate what people suggest/want in the story, but it makes me really happy that you guys are willing to share your thoughts.
> 
> Anyway, onto the next chapter!

Making their way through the Forgotten Crossroads with Quirrel was a novel experience for Ghost. 

When Ghost had first arrived, they had traversed through the area as quickly as they could, rarely pausing unless it was to rest on a bench or seek out the best piece of terrain to fight from. They had only had eyes for open pathways and oncoming enemies.

Quirrel’s approach, unsurprisingly, was wholly the opposite of Ghost’s. If anything of even slight interest was noted, Quirrel would stop to carefully examine it and determine if it was suitably fascinating to warrant further investigation while Ghost stood guard. In the time that the two of them had started to descend further into the ruins, Ghost was fairly sure that they had already fought the Gruz Mother and opened up their very first stag station.

They found that they liked this slow and meticulous approach. Or maybe they were still basking in the excitement and elation of traveling with Quirrel.

Ghost was pretty sure it was going to be a while longer before they would be alright letting Quirrel go off on his own. Logically, Ghost _knew_ that Quirrel didn’t have any of his memories back yet and he wouldn’t even begin to regain them until the two of them reached the Fog Canyon. Yet their _heart_ was screaming at Ghost to stay with him, to make sure that this go around Quirrel would have their full support.

Following Quirrel would definitely make things progress much more slowly, but Ghost couldn’t find it in themself to break off from him. Not just yet.

If they were going _too_ slow… 

Ghost decided that they would cross that bridge when they got to it. _If_ they got to it.

They didn’t want to break off from Quirrel until they were forced to do so.

It was when they descended further and Ghost could make out the entrance to the mines that they ventured from Quirrel.

“Ghost?”

Ghost turned back towards Quirrel at the sound of their name. Quirrel was crouching down and looking over a pink crystal fragment that he had must have found laying on the ground. Ghost clearly remembered the powers that those crystals could grant the bugs who used it properly, but Quirrel wouldn’t be able to do anything with one that small.

“Do you wish to head into the mines?” Quirrel asked. At Ghost’s nod, he rose to stand up and stowed the miniscule fragment away. “We’ll have to traverse carefully. There’s likely to be less space for us to maneuver should we run into those who turn out to be hostile. Still, whatever we find in there is bound to be intriguing.”

Ghost didn’t really care about that right now. Their mind was focused on something else entirely.

Ghost let Quirrel lead the way into the mines, knowing that he wouldn’t run into anything dangerous. Not yet. Not _ever_ if Ghost had a chance to change it.

Quirrel’s pace slowed once they were fully inside, his gaze fixed on the crystals, reaching out to tentatively run his hands across them. Ghost simply watched him. Ghost held no fondness or curiosity for this place.

“How beautiful…” Quirrel breathed. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a mineral like this one before. Do you suppose that they have any special properties about them? They feel… charged, somehow.”

Ghost nodded, but Quirrel seemed too enthralled with the crystals to notice.

“I wonder if there’s some way to harvest them? I could always use my nail, but I would never dare dream of damaging it. Is this even _safe_ to break off? They don’t seem immediately dangerous but who knows what excessive force could trigger…”

Ghost waited a little longer through Quirrel’s mutterings before they gave into their impatience and headed further into the mines. Quirrel didn’t seem to notice them leaving. Ghost was sure that he would be fine for the short amount of time that Ghost would be gone.

Besides, facing Myla again was something that Ghost wished to do alone.

It wasn’t long before they heard the rhythmic _clink_ s of Myla’s pickaxe and her wavering singing voice. Ghost could scarcely recall a better sound—not even Marissa’s serenade had sounded as wonderful.

Ghost jumped down into the narrow tunnel that Myla had mined.

They felt themself freeze up as they watched her picking away at the crystals, singing her dour song.

Everything suddenly felt so much more _real._ Quirrel being alive and not remembering them—that could _maybe_ be explained away, though Ghost struggled to think of an alternative. But Myla, she had been _truly_ dead, killed by Ghost’s own hand after she had succumbed to the Infection.

They had been trying to do her a mercy, taking her life so that she could be at peace.

The justification didn’t reassure them anymore, nor did it ease the guilt that flooded through them.

But this wasn’t the time to focus on that. It was in the past (or the future?) and Ghost wasn’t about to let it happen again. They walked towards Myla.

Once they were close enough, they lightly tapped the back of her shell to get her attention. Her singing was abruptly cut off with a soft squeak and she turned around as quickly as she could. She seemed to relax when she took in Ghost’s form, non-threatening and smaller than hers.

“O-oh!” Myla chirped. “I d-didn’t see you there! Were you listening to me sing?”

Ghost nodded. Myla’s eyes brightened.

“It's one of my f-favorites!” Myla told them. “We can sing something else if you like. You start singing and I'll join in. I bet you have a b-b-beautiful singing voice!” Myla started to giggle.

Ghost shook their head. They couldn’t sing without a voice. Besides, they found that they liked listening to Myla sing, her voice cheery and melodic.

“Y-you don’t like singing?” Myla asked. Figuring that she was close enough, Ghost nodded. “W-well you don’t have to! So, uh, what are you down here for? If you came to g-get wealthy, just look around you! These mines are still bursting with riches! There's p-p-plenty for everyone, just grab a pick and join in!”

Ghost shook their head. They gestured to the pick and then renewed shaking their head with fervor.

“Y-you don’t want to m-mine?” Myla inquired, her befuddlement clear in her tone. “Then why are you d-down here?”

Ghost looked around, desperately trying to find a way to communicate to Myla that she needed to _leave._ How to explain that she would succumb to the Infection? How could they convey something so abstract and specific without a voice? How would they even get Myla to believe them if they could?

Getting Myla out of here suddenly seemed like an impossible task.

They could always remove her through force, but there was no way to ensure that she wouldn’t just come right back to the mines the second that Ghost left her sight. They couldn’t bring her along through the ruins with them and Quirrel—Myla wasn’t a fighter and was nowhere near equipped to face the trials that Ghost knew they would have to face.

Something with such a clear and simple solution and yet… Ghost wanted to find a dark place to curl up and sleep in the face of it, wished that there was _some_ way to make the feeling go away and get Myla to safety.

They just didn’t know _how._

“Ghost? Ghost!”

Myla and Ghost both startled at the shout. Myla began shaking violently.

“A g-g-ghost?” she hissed out, her voice a whole octave higher and wavering something fierce. “There’s a g-g-g-ghost here?”

Ghost was pretty sure that she was terrified but had no idea how to reassure her that Quirrel had simply now noticed that they were missing. They felt a spark of something hot and sharp in their chest at their inability to offer comfort Myla.

Soon enough, Ghost could make out hurried footsteps growing closer. Myla was trembling so much that Ghost wondered if her shell would fall off. A short time later, Quirrel jumped down into the tunnel, landing easily.

Or, he would have if Myla hadn’t screamed at a pitch that could cause lesser bugs to go completely deaf. Instead, Quirrel tripped when he made contact with the ground, stumbling and flailing his arms momentarily to regain his balance. He managed not to fall down, but it was a near thing from what Ghost could tell.

Once Quirrel was standing steady on his feet again, he looked from Ghost to Myla and then back to Ghost again. He sighed. “We really need to talk about you not running off, my friend.”

“E-e-excuse me!” Myla all but shrieked. Ghost noted that Quirrel flinched slightly at her shrill tone. “D-d-didn’t you m-mention something about a g-ghost?”

Quirrel gestured at Ghost. “That is the name of my companion here. As far as I’m aware, there are no specters that haunt these mines.”

“O-oh,” Myla breathed out, her posture sagging in apparent relief. She then turned to face Ghost. “Why d-didn’t you say anything?”

“Ah, pardon miss,” Quirrel easily cut in. “Ghost cannot speak. If they could, then I’m sure that they would have warned you.”

“Oh no, I’m so s-sorry!” Myla gasped. “I didn’t know! I thought that you were p-playing a game earlier b-but I really should have known better.”

Ghost was shaking their head, mind racing as they tried to figure out the best way to comfort Myla. They hesitantly reached out, then aborted the motion halfway through, unsure if the touch would be welcome. The flashing image of Myla’s corpse on the ground further deterred them.

At a loss, they turned to Quirrel.

Quirrel, who had been watching the interaction, reached up to scratch at his chin for a few seconds when Ghost fixed their stare on him. Ghost willed him to understand.

“I could be drawing the wrong conclusions here,” Quirrel started, tone slow and careful, “but if I am not mistaken, I believe Ghost wishes to let you know that they take no offense to your assumption.”

Ghost nodded, a rush of gratitude flowing through them. Thank the Wyrm for Quirrel. It may take a few tries, but Ghost was sure that Quirrel could eventually figure out anything that they tried to get across.

Ghost froze for a moment. They turned back to face Myla, an idea slowly taking form.

“Oh, that’s good then,” Myla said, almost back to her former, cheerful state. “What were you trying to, um, tell me then?”

Ghost couldn’t have asked for a better opening. Once more, they turned to Quirrel and cocked their head to the side.

Quirrel, somehow, picked up on their intent again. “I can act as a translator if you wish. I think I’m somewhat adept at picking up Ghost’s messages.”

Ghost nodded at Quirrel before looking back to Myla for confirmation.

“That sounds g-good to me!”

Ghost immediately pointed at Myla’s pick and frantically shook their head for a few seconds before stopping, gaze going back to Quirrel.

Quirrel stared for a moment. “You aren’t a fan of mining?”

Ghost shook their head again. They made sure to point _very_ sharply at the pick, this time using both hands.

“… ah, I see. It’s the _pick_ that you have a problem with, not the mining. Yes, that makes sense to me.”

Ghost nodded, but was left wondering what Quirrel meant with his last statement.

Myla turned her pick in her hands, looking over it. “I-is there something wrong with it?”

Ghost was about to start shaking their head when Quirrel started to speak. “I don’t think my friend thinks there’s something _wrong_ with your tool, per se. However, I do believe that they are concerned for your safety.”

Ghost’s head snapped to look at Quirrel. They had been _sure_ that it would take longer to get their point across. How had Quirrel already figured everything out? Did Monomon’s mask grant him some sort of power that let him do it with such ease? How did even Quirrel _know_ about the Infection after only being here for such a short time? It shouldn’t be possible!

“Right now it’s very dangerous to be here,” Quirrel continued, walking closer and gesturing around himself as he spoke. “The dead appear to have come back to life and seem intent on attacking any who they catch sight of. While I’m sure that there are all sorts of wonderful and beautiful things down here for you to find, that pick of yours makes a poor weapon. Unless there’s something about it that I am unaware of?”

… Alright, so Quirrel may not have gotten the exact point that Ghost wanted to get across, but they were perfectly fine with the direction that the conversation was currently going so they nodded along.

“I-it’s not a weapon,” Myla said. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about? What do you mean that bugs are coming back to life?”

“Perhaps ‘coming back to life’ was a poor choice of words,” Quirrel revised. “The corpses seem to have been reanimated in some form or another and altogether feral. It’s not safe to stay down here without a way to defend yourself. You’re lucky that none of them have wandered in here so far.”

Ghost nodded as hard as they could. They made sure to get Quirrel’s attention before pointing at Myla and then pointing above their head. Quirrel inclined his head down in acknowledgement.

“I believe that Ghost has the right idea on this,” Quirrel said. “It’s probably best that you leave these ruins while you still can. I think these mines would make a poor tomb for you.”

“B-but I can’t just leave!” Myla shouted. “W-what about all of the riches down here? Are you saying I should just abandon them?”

Quirrel was silent for a few moments. Then, “Do you value them above your own life? Because that is the decision you will be making if you choose to stay here. I will not force you to leave if you do not wish to, but I implore you to carefully consider the weight of your next actions.”

What did Quirrel mean that he wouldn’t force Myla to leave? She had to go. She would _die_ if she didn’t. They couldn’t just abandon her here in the mines. How could Quirrel even consider that an option?

“… O-okay,” Myla whispered out. “Y-you’re right. I can always find some other way to make Geo, I guess. I just… this seems like a good thing to stay here. H-how am I even supposed to get back to Dirtmouth safely?”

Ghost jumped high in the air, a silent cheer filling their head. Quirrel seemed to have that happy and light air about him as he watched them while Myla seemed surprised by Ghost’s sudden movement. Ghost then took their nail in hand, widened their stance, and pointed their nail back towards the entrance of the mines.”

“I believe that Ghost is offering themself up as an escort,” Quirrel translated, a stray chuckle spilling from him. “I would be glad to offer my own assistance as well, should you choose to accept it.”

“Thank you so much!” Myla cried out. “That’s s-so nice of you! Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

Quirrel and Ghost both nodded. “It’s no problem at all, I assure you. Perhaps we can even help you gather up some of what you mined? I don’t know how much we’ll be able to carry, but even a little is better than nothing.”

“That w-would be great!”

The three of them set to harvesting as much of Myla’s haul as they could. It took too long for Ghost’s liking, but they made sure to remind themself that they’d all be leaving soon and Myla would _never_ come back here again.

Finally, Quirrel declared that it seemed that everyone was carrying all that they could. Myla seemed somewhat dejected to actually be heading out now that the time was upon them, but Quirrel gently prodded her into leaving.

At long last, they emerged from the mines with Myla is tow.

Ghost had to stop themself from quivering with joy.

Quirrel led the way back the short distance through the Crossroads and back to Dirtmouth. Whenever enemies reared their heads, Ghost made sure to charge forwards and destroy them before they could get anywhere _close_ to Myla.

When they reached the chain that led out of the ruins, Ghost made sure that Myla was the first to start climbing up. Quirrel seemed to be of the same mind since he gave something of a bow while making a sweeping gesture for Myla to go ahead of him. It made Myla giggle again as she started the climb. Quirrel and Ghost followed soon after.

It was only once Ghost took in the familiar town with Myla walking towards it that they let their guard down.

Myla was safe. She was out of the mines. She wouldn’t fall prey to the Infection.

She’d be alright.

“This way! We can drop off my stuff in my house.”

Ghost shook themself slightly and took a moment to process Myla’s words before trotting after her, Quirrel following at a much more leisurely pace. He still caught up easily to the two of them with his longer strides.

“Now that we’re safer, I’m afraid that I’ve realized that I never properly introduced myself and my companion,” Quirrel said. “My name is Quirrel and I am a traveller to Hallownest. I wish to see the wonders and secrets that the ruins of such a great kingdom has to offer. You, of course, know Ghost’s name. They have decided to join me on my adventure and I am quite thankful for both their company and skill with a nail.”

“M-my name is Myla! I can’t believe that I never told you that, even after you decided to help me…”

Ghost shook their head and Quirrel waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it. The two of us are just happy to see you return safely. Isn’t that right?”

Ghost nodded decisively.

“Y-you’re both really nice,” Myla commented. “Oh, this is my home. Just l-let me get the door…”

Soon, Ghost and Quirrel were stepping into Myla’s house as she went to turn a light on. It was a small and humble home, much like all of the others that could be found in Dirtmouth. There was a small cot in the corner shoved next to a desk that had started collecting dust. There was also a round table with two decrepit chairs in the center, a lantern resting on it.

“It’s so messy in here!” Myla exclaimed. “Just how long was I down there…?”

“It must be easy to lose time in the mines,” Quirrel offered. “Is there any place in particular where you wish us to place your belongings?”

“On the table is fine! Let me move the lantern real quick!”

Quirrel started to take out the pieces that he had collected and placed them on the table, Ghost only taking a few seconds before doing the same. Myla was putting what she had gathered onto the desk.

After several minutes, Quirrel and Myla were both staring with wide eyes as Ghost placed the last piece they had gathered on the now-enormous pile that had formed on the table.

“How did you even carry that _much_?” Quirrel breathed out. “There’s more on that table there than there is of _you._ How did you even carry something that weighs that much?”

Myla still seemed absolutely transfixed on the hoard that was on her table.

Ghost offered Quirrel a shrug.

“You, my friend, are an absolute marvel,” Quirrel said with a shake of his head. “This is something that we need to test. Not now, I think, but do remind me to experiment with your ability to carry an obscene amount of mass at some point when we have the time.”

Ghost nodded, making a mental note to do just that.

“For now though, I believe that we’ve spent enough time here,” Quirrel said, turning back to Myla. “It’s been wonderful to meet you, Myla, but there’s still much to explore and uncover. If we are in town again, we will be sure to visit you.”

“That sounds really great,” Myla responded once she tore her gaze away from the pile on the table. “I have a lot to sort through before everything is clean again. Maybe by the time you’re back I’ll be done?”

“We shall see,” Quirrel said. “We’ll see ourselves out now, if that’s alright.”

“Go ahead! And thank you again!”

Ghost and Quirrel ducked out, Myla closing the door gently behind them. Once she had, Quirrel reached both of his arms above his head and arched his back in a stretch.

“That was certainly an interesting excursion,” Quirrel commented. “I’m glad that we were able to help get her out of those ruins. I can only imagine what would have happened if she had stayed down there too much longer…”

Ghost _really_ didn’t like that they didn’t need to imagine.

“I say that we’ve earned ourselves a rest,” Quirrel continued. “You’ve saved two beings already in the short time we’ve been together, my friend. I don’t think I realized just how right I was about your heroic streak.”

Ghost shrugged and followed Quirrel as he started to make his way to the bench in the center of the town. Quirrel offered a lazy wave to Elderbug as they drew near, Ghost swinging their own arm in greeting.

Elderbug blinked at Ghost. “Oh! You're back! You walked straight past me and descended down into the ruins without even saying hello! I thought maybe I'd seen a ghost. The mind sometimes plays tricks on you when you spend a lot of time alone. And you, traveler, it’s good to see you’re still alive as well.”

“Ah, thank you,” Quirrel said. “I find that I’m quite pleased with that fact as well.”

Elderbug hummed. “I suppose you are.”

Quirrel didn’t offer anything more than a hum of his own as he took a seat on the bench. Ghost hesitated, unsure if it would be alright to sit next to Quirrel. They had done so before the first time they had ventured into the City of Tears, but they hadn’t quite started _feeling_ just then and had only cared about the rest that the bench would offer, unconcerned with Quirrel’s presence there.

It took a little, but Quirrel eventually noticed Ghost just standing and staring. He patted the open spot on the bench. “Feel free to take a seat for yourself if you wish to, Ghost. This bench is large enough for the both of us and I say you’ve earned your rest as much as I have mine.”

Ghost immediately hopped up next to Quirrel, leaning back and letting themself relax against the metal frame.

They hadn’t realized how _tired_ they had been until then, which was incredibly odd since they couldn't grow physically weary. But having dealt with the horror that was killing their sibling and sealing Hornet in with them, not to mention the apparent reset of Hallownest, had apparently exhausted some new part of them. It had been a lot for a single vessel to handle.

But now they had already changed things for the better. Myla was out of the mines and she seemed sufficiently persuaded into not going back down. She was only the first of many that Ghost planned on saving this time around, but it was still a clear success.

Myla would not be the last they saved.

That Ghost was certain of.

But for now, in the quiet and peace of Dirtmouth with Quirrel by their side, Ghost would allow themself to rest for a while. Quirrel was right: they had certainly earned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myla has been saved! Hooray!
> 
> And yes, Ghost has infinite storage. Quirrel is confused by it but he's seen weirder. Or, he's pretty sure that he has, at least.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading and be sure to leave your thoughts on the chapter!


	4. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel and Ghost explore more of the Forgotten Crossroads and Quirrel is continually surpirsed by his new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: How Close Can I Get Quirrel to Saying "What the Fuck Ghost"
> 
> For real, this chapter was a lot of fun to write.
> 
> Also!!! You guys are leaving so many kudos and comments and???? It honestly makes my whole day. I'm so happy that you guys really like this fic and your feedback is keeping me going strong. Thank you all so much :') I've been writing like a goddamn monster so I have a few chapters backlogged but I really wanted to post this one now.
> 
> Anyway, enough from me. Onto the fic!

Quirrel stared up at the vast, dark sky above him, picking out the edges of clouds as they lazily drifted by.

He had been right. His new companion  _ was _ interesting, far more than he had initially realized. A small bug who couldn't speak yet didn’t know how to sign, wielded a nail with a level of skill that a seasoned veteran might, and could  _ apparently _ carry far more than their own mass on their person without any sign of its existence. Not to mention their desire to assist the two sane and sapient bugs they had come across.

And, for some reason, Ghost had decided to follow around Quirrel of all bugs. He supposed that Ghost didn’t exactly have a wide array of potential traveling companions to choose from, but it seemed a little odd that they would immediately ally themself with Quirrel.

Or perhaps not. Ghost seemed the headstrong and impulsive sort, from what Quirrel could tell—charging at the beast blocking the grub, their spastic miming, and wandering off without alerting Quirrel. Then there was the fact that Quirrel was decently able to decipher the meanings behind their performances. In that context, it didn’t seem all that strange for Ghost to suddenly decide that they wanted to stick by Quirrel.

Of course, all of this still begged the question of what Ghost was here in Hallownest for. Perhaps they wished to explore the ruins as Quirrel himself did? Quirrel turned that option over in his head before setting it aside for the moment. While that would provide more of an explanation as to why Ghost wished to travel with him, it wasn’t exactly in line with that he had seen. Ghost had been content to watch Quirrel investigate whatever he wished to, but Ghost never paid more than a few moments worth of attention before they went back to scanning their surroundings. And then in the mines they had completely wandered off while surrounded by the strange pink crystals, hardly paying any mind to them at all. Quirrel had a feeling that if Ghost were the one setting the pace, the two of them would be going through the ruins with greater speed.

There were just one too many pieces of the puzzle that didn’t fit in for Quirrel to say one way or the other. It was still early in their time together though, so Quirrel was sure that things would start becoming clearer to him as they continued to travel. One thing that had been surprising yet blatantly obvious was Ghost’s desire to protect and help others. There was a real heroic spirit in them and a desire to protect that—

Quirrel blinked, gaze focusing back to reality as he did so.

_ I see now. _

_ Ghost is following me not for their benefit, but likely for  _ mine.

It was suddenly perfectly clear for Quirrel. Ghost had stumbled upon him investigating the ruins and proclaiming his intent to venture further into them. They had likely sized Quirrel up in much the same way he had them, deciding that they would act as something of a bodyguard for Quirrel. That would also explain the fervor they dispatched enemies with and their tendency to rush ahead to attack at the first sign of trouble. Given this new perspective, it was entirely possible that Ghost  _ hadn’t _ seen that grub, simply charged towards the enemy in order to prevent it from harming bugs who later ventured into the area while also having the added benefit of defending Quirrel.  _ And _ they had only executed their lethal nail spin once Quirrel had been knocked off his feet.

_ Perhaps they’re not quite as mysterious as I first assumed, _ Quirrel thought.  _ At least not personality and motive-wise. Rather, they’re quite straightforward and I simply hadn’t considered this angle. There’s still much about them that remains an enigma, but I do believe that I have a much better understanding of Ghost now. _

Quirrel chuckled softly, content with his own musings. It was nice to know that his new companion had a good and noble heart. He’d have to make sure that Ghost didn’t get in over their head, though. Quirrel could easily envision Ghost taking on enemies that they weren’t prepared to face in the name of others’ safety. Not that Quirrel had anything against that, but Ghost would likely rush forth without a plan beyond swinging their nail until whatever they were facing fell. Sometimes a more careful and thought out approach was—

Quirrel felt something bonk into his left side. He looked down.

Ghost had seemingly fallen asleep, slouching into Quirrel limply. The two inky voids on their face remained wide open, further cementing Quirrel’s earlier observation that Ghost was indeed wearing a mask.

Ghost’s mask was cold, but not unpleasantly so. It was like a cool breeze on a hot day, or a gulp of ice in the sweltering heat; chill yet comforting.

Quirrel decided that he didn’t mind it too much.

“I think that you have the right idea, my curious friend,” Quirrel told his sleeping companion. “Some sleep sounds wonderful right now.”

Using his right arm and taking great care not to jostle Ghost, Quirrel adjusted the large mask on the top of his head to lean further down his face and leaned back, closing his own eyes as he took in the quiet ambiance of Dirtmouth.

It wasn’t too long before sleep claimed him as well.

* * *

Quirrel woke slowly and peacefully. He reached his arms above his head in a languid stretch. When he fully opened his eyes and readjusted his mask to sit properly on his head, he looked to his left to greet Ghost.

They were gone.

Quirrel wasn’t surprised but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Really, I wouldn’t mind if they at least informed me,” Quirrel muttered to himself. “What am I—”

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Quirrel looked back over to his right to see the elderly bug standing in the same spot, Ghost by his side.

“Your friend is quite the avid listener,” the bug told Quirrel. “Very polite, too.”

Quirrel blinked, shaking his head to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep. “Ah, I’m sure they’re thankful to hear that.” Quirrel noted Ghost’s nod before he continued. “Now that we’re up, we'd best return to the ruins. Things to do and places to see and whatnot.”

The bug sighed. “Yes, of course. I don’t understand what calls you all down there, but I hope that you find what you seek.”

“Thank you,” Quirrel said, standing up. He stretched once more for good measure before turning back to Ghost. “Are you ready?”

Ghost jumped up and nodded. Quirrel took that as a definite yes.

“Then let’s be off.”

* * *

Quirrel decided that it would be best if they continued to press forward on their original path. He was saddened to find that they could not yet progress further down, a pair of gates cutting off the way through. He and Ghost quickly climbed the walls once again before Quirrel led them westward through a large and grand corridor. Now that Quirrel had a firm grasp of Ghost’s capabilities, he was less paranoid about them facing down the savage bugs that filled the ruins. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t keep an eye out for them or that he went out of his way to antagonize hostiles, but he no longer worried about overplanning every step to ensure that they were not spotted.

After a short period of time, they had fallen into a sort of rhythm. Ghost would rush in head-on, drawing their foe’s attention solely onto them as they attacked. Quirrel would then sprint in an arc towards their enemy, flanking it from the other side. Ghost would hit heavy and hard while Quirrel would swiftly dart in and out while it was staggered, landing as many hits as possible.

In Quirrel’s opinion, they made quite the team.

They only stopped when Ghost spotted another jarred grub up on a high ledge. They couldn’t quite jump high or far enough to reach the child and although they did not have an expression, they were very obviously saddened by this fact.

“Come now,” Quirrel tried to encourage them. “There must be some way that we can reach them. After all, they got up there somehow.”

Ghost stopped hanging their head to look back up to the grub and the nearest ledge they could jump off of. It took a few moments, but Ghost suddenly perked up and began waving their arms at Quirrel.

“Ah, so you came up with something? Do share.”

Quirrel was surprised when Ghost’s plan of him throwing them across the ledge worked. Ghost was ridiculously light.

Not much longer after that, they reached the end of the corridor and found themselves gazing around the tall, wide open room that they had stumbled across. There were several platforms held aloft by what appeared to be cable wiring of some sort. Small, fat, winged bugs lazily flew around the area, bouncing off of the platforms and walls.

_ Now, which way to go first… _

Quirrel glanced at Ghost. They were looking down towards the floor.

“Well I suppose that’s as good of a direction as any,” Quirrel stated. Ghost looked up at him, cocking their head to one side. “Down, I mean. You seem interested and I don’t have much of a preference.”

Ghost perked up and nodded twice. They then immediately walked off of the ledge.

Quirrel felt his heart stop. “Ghost!” He shouted, bounding onto one of the platforms and quickly making his way downwards.

What had Ghost been  _ thinking _ ? _Had_ they been thinking? What possessed them to simply walk off and enter freefall?

_ Oh, I hope that they didn’t injure themself too badly. I could probably get out if I have to carry them, but climbing the chain may present a problem. I’m sure that I can figure out something but— _

Quirrel’s feet touched the ground.

Ghost gave them a cheery wave, not a visible scratch on them and seeming no worse for wear.

“What were you  _ thinking _ ?” Quirrel demanded, taking heavy steps towards Ghost. “Do you have any idea how badly hurt you could have gotten? Do you make it a habit of yours to simply jump off of the highest surface available? I can’t even begin to imagine why you would ever consider—”

Quirrel cut himself off. Ghost’s demeanor had changed into something much sadder, their shoulders hunched forward, mask hanging down, and body curling in on itself as if they were trying to make themself even smaller.

Quirrel sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset at you. I was very worried that you had gotten yourself critically injured and my emotions got the better of me. That does not excuse my behavior and I am happy to see that you’re alright. I hope I didn’t upset you overmuch.”

Ghost gave several small shakes of their head, already straightening up again. They held a hand to their chest for a few moments before gesturing to their eye and drawing down a line from the bottom half of the circle to around their chin. They then pointed at themself.

“… You’re saddened?” Quirrel guessed. Ghost shook their head, once again pointing to their chest. Then they pointed at Quirrel. “ _ I’m _ sad?”

Ghost seemed to consider his guess for a few moments. They then gave a slow nod before taking a few steps forwards and placing a gentle, cold hand on Quirrel. They stared up at him with black sockets.

“… I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” Quirrel suggested, only half-joking. Ghost nodded solemnly as they withdrew their hand. “I promise to do my best to not get so worked up in the future. But, uh, perhaps a bit of warning next time?”

Ghost nodded again, lifting their hand above their eyes in what Quirrel could only interpret as a salute.

Quirrel let a huff of amusement out. “Let’s press on then, shall we?”

* * *

Quirrel liked Cornifer a great deal. He was methodical and meticulous in his work, drawn to the mysteries of Hallownest just as Quirrel was, though the two certainly acted on their curiosity in different ways. Quirrel wasn’t too interested in cartography himself, but he could very much appreciate the value of a well-made map and had a great respect for Cornifer’s craft.

He assumed that Cornifer was asking a fair price for his map, but he had no way to know for certain without a proper grasp on the currency here yet. Perhaps thirty Geo for a map was dirt cheap or maybe it was practically theft. Either way, Quirrel didn’t feel comfortable enough to negotiate.

“I’m afraid that I’m rather new here and have no Geo to speak of,” Quirrel confessed. “Perhaps if I can find some I could—”

Quirrel stopped as he watched Ghost produce a handful of the small, fossil-like stones that fell from the savage bugs.

“Ah, your friend here seems to have enough,” Cornifer said. He took the stones and counted them out before nodding to himself and handing Ghost the map. He then stowed away the stones.

“That’s what Geo is?” Quirrel asked. “I hadn’t even realized.”

Cornifer offered a shrug once he had stowed the Geo away. “I suppose that its worth isn’t immediately clear, but you’ll come to find that most bugs here find value in those fossilized shells.”

“Good to know,” Quirrel responded. “I’ll be sure to start picking it up from now on. Well done on collecting it already, Ghost.”

Ghost’s chest rose up again in what Quirrel easily recognized as pride. Cornifer could apparently tell as well, giving a knowing hum and smile at Ghost’s posture.

“Yes, quite a resourceful fellow,” Cornifer commented. Ghost’s chest swelled further before he continued. “Now, a map can be a useful thing, but it alone won't show you where you are. If neither of you have the head for directions, I suggest purchasing a compass from my wife, Iselda. She's just now opening our new map shop in Dirtmouth, selling all sorts of useful things to wanderers like yourselves. She'll even sell some of my old maps from time to time. I pop back to see her whenever I finish mapping an area. She's always so excited to see me.”

Quirrel nodded along with Ghost. “We’ll be sure to do that. It’s easy to see how we could get lost down here, even with a map. Knowing exactly where we are on it would be incredibly useful.”

“Of course. And if you happen to see her before I do, let her know that I am doing well.”

“I’d be happy to do so.”

They exchanged farewells and allowed Cornifer to go back to his scribbling. Ghost opened the map and Quirrel easily peered over their shoulder.

“Well, we’re obviously here at the moment,” Quirrel said, pointing to the area with a doodle of Cornifer on it. “From the looks of it, we passed through that uncharted section of the map, here.” Quirrel reached done and drew his finger from right to left, above the path leading to a large room with a horned face but below a doodle of what he assumed was the building he had first met Ghost in. “For now, I think our best shot it continuing east of here and seeing if we can’t find some way to get that set of gates open from the other side. I do hope that we’ll be able to get to that section from where we are now. I would hate to be blocked off from even a small portion of these ruins. From there we can plot a new course.”

Ghost nodded, seemingly satisfied with Quirrel’s plan. They rolled the map back up and tucked it somewhere underneath their tattered cloak.

Quirrel  _ really _ had to ask them about that at some point.

* * *

“Hot springs!” Quirrel cried out as they stepped into the room. He hurried over to the bench on the far side of the room and propped his nail up against it before moving back to the edge of the warm, bubbling water. He slowly stepped in, sighing in relief as he eased himself into the water, feeling aches—some he hadn’t even realized he had—leave his body. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink further into the warmth.

He cracked one eye open as he heard a splash beside him, watching Ghost step in the water as well, their nail resting on the ground just at the edge of the pool. Quirrel allowed his eye to fall shut again.

“Now this, my dear friend, is a lucky find indeed,” Quirrel drawled. “I cannot recall the last time I was able to spend time in a hot spring and I am glad to have gained a fresh memory of it, especially after the battle we just had. Those gates falling behind us was a nasty trick.”

Quirrel couldn’t hear any movement in the water next to him, so he assumed that Ghost wasn’t trying to communicate anything to him and allowed himself to simply bask in the feeling of peace that washed over him.

It must have been a few minutes, but Quirrel soon heard something moving in the water. Then he felt it splash into his side. He opened his eyes and turned to face Ghost.

They moved their arm to try and splash him again.

Quirrel snorted. “Alright, alright. I suppose it is time for us to get moving again now. Still, I would love to come back here if we have the chance. Finding a place that is this calming and pleasant is a wonder in and of itself.”

Ghost nodded before hopping out and grabbing their nail. Quirrel followed easily, only feeling the smallest amount of regret as the two of them left the springs in search of newer, grander finds.

* * *

They made their way through another long corridor, this one made markedly more exciting by the giant, spiked, cylindrical bugs that would emerge from the tunnel ground, walls, and the ceiling. All it took was some decent timing to easily slip past them; hardly a real threat.

Once again, they found themselves entering a more spacious room, the ceiling and path leading upwards only a few scant feet above them. Ghost reached to take the map out again. They tapped at a section on it, drawing Quirrel’s attention to it.

“Hm… yes, it appears that we are directly below that room now,” Quirrel said. “Well, let’s hope that we aren’t blocked off once again.”

Ghost nodded and rolled the map back up. Quirrel stepped forwards and jumped onto the ledge below the path, glancing back to make sure that Ghost was following him. They were, so Quirrel leaped upwards, landing steadily and immediately taking in the area as he heard the telltale sound of Ghost coming up as well.

A few of the more aggressive flying creatures were starting to head towards them. Quirrel found that he hardly had to think as he swung his nail at them, their movements predictable and without any form of thought. They were simple-minded foes, hardly worth the title of enemy.

Once he and Ghost had effortlessly taken them all out and collected the Geo they had dropped, Ghost’s attention seemed to be drawn towards the west side of the room. Quirrel couldn’t say what for certain, so he did his best to follow the other’s gaze.

From what he could tell, the only thing of note was a sign that hung off of a ledge not too far above them. Quirrel couldn’t quite make out what it depicted from his angle and distance, but he found his own curiosity sparked in turn.

“I wonder what that could be?” Quirrel thought aloud. He turned to look back at Ghost. “Would you care to accompany me on my investigation of it?”

Ghost nodded fiercely before immediately launching themself upwards.

Quirrel could only shake his head with exasperated fondness as he followed them.

When he had joined Ghost on the ledge, he peered at the sign. It had a simple but well-drawn portrait of the head of what Quirrel would guess was one of the great stags that he had rumor of.

“Interesting,” he muttered. “I believe that we have stumbled across the ruins of one of the stag stations that I have heard mentioned. It will certainly be worthwhile to poke around even if it has little to offer. Come, we should head in.”

Ghost gave a little hop before running on ahead. Quirrel set a brisk pace so that Ghost didn’t get too far away from him. He made sure to scan the narrowed area, keeping a keen eye for any enemies that might be lying in wait for unobservant prey.

_ Their desire to press onwards is strong, _ Quirrel thought.  _ Perhaps I wasn’t too far off in believing that they wish to explore Hallownest as I do. After all, acting as a protector and wishing to experience the wonders of there ruins aren’t mutually exclusive. _

It was an interesting thought, one that Quirrel would have followed further if he had been in a safer environment. For now, he simply pushed it to the back of his mind to pick up at a later time. Getting distracted wouldn’t be to his benefit right now.

Ghost had made it most of the way through the tunnel, bouncing lightly from between a bench and a silver contraption of sorts. A box-like instrument with a slot and a level rested a few feet above the ground, held up by the pole that extended from the ground. It wasn’t at all tarnished, so Quirrel was fairly certain that it wasn’t actual silver, though it certainly looked it.  _ Perhaps steel? Or maybe it is magically preserved? Hard to say without expertise in the subject. _

There was also a chasm in the ground— _ too uniform to be anything but intentionally built _ —running perpendicular to the path that he was currently on. The chasm stretched from one side of the tunnel to the other, forming something of a channel. Quirrel assumed that it went on for much further, likely one of the stagways, but had no way of knowing where there went since both openings were sealed by gates.

Quirrel let his gaze return his Ghost when he finally caught up fully to them. Ghost was practically  _ vibrating. _ Before Quirrel could question them they jumped upwards, a good amount of Geo in hand, and shoved the fossils into the slot. With a second jump, they reached up and pulled the lever down.

“What are you—?”

The whole contraption began to shake before zipping into the ground. Quirrel stared dumbly into the hole it had disappeared into before flinching back as something rocketed from the same spot. He blinked a few times before taking in the new rig that had taken its place: a pole holding a single, bronze bell aloft. A deep, loud sound echoed through the station, causing Quirrel to scramble back a few feet, drawing his nail. It took a few moments but he quickly realized that the sound came from the gates opening in tandem.

Ghost hadn’t seemed to notice his distress and instead used their nail to smack the bell, sending a clear chime ringing through the station. 

Then the rumbling started.

Quirrel could almost  _ feel _ it, the sound coming from the newly opened section to his right. He fell into a defensive stance, bracing himself for whatever enemy may emerge from the path. He was  _ extremely _ alarmed by the fact that Ghost still had their nail sheathed and was standing on the ledge above the channel.

Before Quirrel could call out to them, a giant blur rushed out opening before abruptly stopping. Quirrel’s eyes widened as he took in the behemoth in front of them.

It was a stag. The elderly bug in Dirtmouth had informed him that all of the stags had died long ago, the stagways rendered forever useless. Quirrel had been disappointed to learn that he wouldn’t be able to witness the majesty of the stags firsthand, but had quickly made peace with it.

Now though, there was a stag before him and Ghost, grunting and rapidly glancing around the station. Ghost gave a cheery wave from the ledge—the platform—that they were on.

“Greetings, little one,” the gruff voice of the stag called out. “It's been an age since I last heard the ringing of a station bell. It echoed down the stagways and called me to you. I've grown stiff and tired over these many years and I've forgotten much, but the sound of the bell will always call me back. These stagways stretch the depths of Hallownest. If you want to travel them, hail me from the platform. I will take you where you need to go.”

“You managed to give us quite a shock,” Quirrel said, making his way toward Ghost and the stag so that he was visible, sheathing his nail as he did so. He still left his hand on its hilt, just in case. “Or rather, you managed to give  _ me  _ quite a shock.”

“Two of you!” the stag exclaimed. “A welcome sight. I can’t remember startling anyone before, but it has been a long time. My memory is not what it used to be.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Quirrel assured him. “But still, being able to traverse the ruins of Hallownest via stag… this is very exciting indeed! I don’t suppose you’d have any suggestions as to which area is the best to explore next?”

The stag grunted. “I’m afraid that my memory truly has failed me; it has been ages since I remembered all of the locations of the stag stations. I have ran through these tunnels since the kingdom was in its prime—most of the stations have been closed off and I can no longer remember the ways between them properly. I do remember one station that is still open, though. One near the surface. I remember that there used to be many travellers there, but it has gone quiet. It’s close by.” 

“That’s probably Dirtmouth,” Quirrel realized. “But it could always be a different place entirely. I don’t suppose that you’d mind taking us there?”

“Of course,” the stag grunted. “Hop on my back and I shall take you there.”

“Thank you so very much,” Quirrel said as he made his way closer to the stag. He easily climbed aboard and took the seat in the front. 

He had assumed that Ghost would take the other one behind him, but soon found that they had much the same idea as him since they sat down next to Quirrel. Quirrel made sure to move over to give his companion some room.

“Well, no sense in waiting around,” Quirrel said once the two of them were settled. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The stag had, in fact, taken them to Dirtmouth. It was a welcome discovery since it meant that there was a fast, safe way to reach the town again even in the depths of the ruins. Quirrel had thought to make conversation with the stag while riding, but they had been moving so quickly and so loudly that he had decided against it.

Soon enough, they were riding their new friend back into the ruins, Quirrel offering his thanks and Ghost nodding along fervently as he did so.

“Now we must plan our next steps,” Quirrel told Ghost. He waited until they took the map out, glancing over it before speaking again. “It seems that we could up slightly further then head west again, ascend and head east one of the paths that seem present, or we could descend and continue our original route to the east. This is, of course, after we find a way to open those pesky gates. Which would you care to do first, my friend?”

Ghost’s hand rose to where their mouth would have been if their mask had one. After a little time of considering the options, they pointed to the spot on the map that opened to the lower of the two eastbound paths above them.

“Seems like a good choice,” Quirrel nodded. “We’ll head out soon enough.”

Ghost nodded, glancing back at the stag. Quirrel chuckled at the silent question and turned to address their new friend.

“We shall certainly return to you in due time,” Quirrel said. “For now, though, we will be parting ways. We wish you well, stag.”

The stag grunted. “May your pace be swift and your legs be sturdy, little travelers. Farewell for now.”

Ghost gave a few last frantic waves before they started to follow Quirrel out.

The two of them began to ascend once again, Ghost managing to find a hidden wall that contained another of the jarred grubs. Quirrel had absolutely no idea why so many of them were being captured in those glass prisons and then simply left there.  _ Just another mystery of Hallownest to solve, I suppose. _

Soon enough, Quirrel could make out the glinting metal of the gates, as well as a great lever that was remarkably similar to the one that opened the door to the stag station in Dirtmouth. Ghost, apparently having much the same idea now and they had before, jumped up to it before giving it a solid  _ thwap _ with their nail, flipping the switch. In only a few more moments, the gates flew open.

“That was much simpler than I was expecting,” Quirrel admitted. “Still, I wonder why this whole contraption was set up in the first place. Perhaps as some form of defensive system? Certainly something to look into later.”

Ghost nodded their agreement.

“But we have more pressing matters, don’t we?” Quirrel asked. “Such as exploring the uncharted parts of our map. I can’t even begin to imagine what we shall find.”

Ghost nodded again, this time drawing out their nail and running to jump down to land on a ledge below them.

Quirrel easily followed, a stray laugh in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stag station has been opened, hooray!
> 
> I hope that ya'll really liked this chapter!
> 
> Thank you all so much and good night!
> 
> Edit: disregard comment about discord server, I've decided against it. If you want to contact me, you can always do it through my tumblr!


	5. Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost has a talk with Quirrel and presses on throughout the Forgotten Crossroads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god??? Ya'll are so nice??? Some of your comments legit nearly made me cry and made my day time and time again. And all the kudos and bookmarks are insane! Thank you all so much!!!! 
> 
> Anyway, chapter 5! Hooray! Happy reading!

Ghost could hardly believe how used to Quirrel’s presence they were by now.

It was still new, that much was true, but Ghost found it so incredibly easy to fall in step beside Quirrel, moving in sync and watching each other’s backs. It wasn’t like the fight the two of them had against Uumuu, either—their styles of fighting were so different and it was the first time they had ever fought together. While it hadn’t been awkward, it  _ had _ been abrupt and Ghost noticed a clear improvement in how they fought together now that they had spent more time with each other. Ghost couldn’t ever imagine going back to fighting alone again, not after this. It felt so much safer and more satisfying, just having Quirrel there with them.

The husk warriors were stupidly easy to defeat now, Ghost simply jumping over them and striking down so that they raised their shields while Quirrel dashed in and stabbed them with his nail while the thing was distracted. Then when they moved to counter Quirrel, Ghost would deal the finishing blow from above. And if they happened to finish off a husk warrior faster than normal, Quirrel would commend them and give them a quick pat or two. It was very nice and Ghost liked it a lot. They hadn’t really been touched in a way that was simply friendly or comforting. At least, not that they could remember. Maybe if Ghost did well enough then Quirrel would hug them? They wondered what a hug would feel like. Probably like the pats, but more somehow.

“Ghost!”

Reality came crashing back at Quirrel’s cry, causing Ghost to startle. They instinctively rose their nail up, barely managing to parry the husk warrior that was charging at them. Quirrel managed to cover for them before the husk could strike again, darting to the side and slashing just enough to draw its attention and leaving Ghost an opening to use the Great Slash. The husk fell to the Nail Art.

“My!” Quirrel gasped out. “That was quite the strike. I would swear that your nail almost grew in length with the area that it affected. But I must ask what happened before that. Are you alright, my friend? Or simply distracted?”

Ghost shook their head. They were fine. Definitely fine. Perfect. Pure.

Ghost almost shuddered at that thought.

Fine. They were fine.

“Fatigued?” Quirrel guessed. Ghost shook their head in response, thankful that Quirrel hadn’t picked up on their discomfort at their own thoughts.

“You’re certain that you’re alright?” Quirrel asked, stressing the ‘certain.’ 

Ghost nodded fervently. They weren’t about to worry Quirrel over their curiosity of  _ hugs _ of all things. That would just be silly and a complete distraction.

Best to just press on as quickly as possible and put the whole thing behind them.

“… Well, if you’re sure,” Quirrel said. He paused before adding, “I think that one was the last of its kind in this corridor. Give me a moment to catch my breath and then we shall continue.”

Quirrel had been feeling tired? Ghost hadn’t even noticed. Quirrel wasn’t showing any obvious signs of exhaustion, but Ghost realized that they probably weren’t the expert on how fatigue showed itself in other bugs. They would have to start looking for signs more and remembering that just because  _ they _ couldn’t get tired didn’t mean that Quirrel was the same.

Ghost nodded in response to Quirrel’s perfectly reasonable request. Quirrel thanked them and took a seat for a little, staring around the room calmly. Ghost alternated between glancing at Quirrel and watching the entrances of the corridor just in case any stray husks decided to wander in while their friend was trying to rest.

A short time later, Quirrel was standing up and taking his nail in hand. “Well, I am feeling quite refreshed and ready to head out now. Are you?”

Ghost nodded, glad that Quirrel was feeling better, even if he seemed the exact same to them. They unsheathed their own nail, waiting for Quirrel to take the lead before trotting after him.

* * *

By the time the two of them were approaching the Gruz Mother, Ghost had managed to free another grub. Quirrel had been worried about them using their nail to bounce off of the spikes in order to reach the grub, but he hadn't blown up at them again for it. Ghost hadn't liked how angry and scared Quirrel had gotten when they jumped to the bottom of that one room, a strange and uncomfortable mix of feelings bubbling in them while it happened; guilt for causing Quirrel grief, slight indignation at how mad Quirrel was, shock at just  _ how _ upset Quirrel had been. Yet afterwards that had felt… something warm. Ghost had known that Quirrel must have cared about them on some level, but seeing just how strongly he reacted to thinking Ghost could get hurt had been almost nice.

Even if the aftermath had been pleasant, Ghost certainly wasn't going to do anything like that again any time soon. Not if it caused Quirrel that much stress.

… A little bit of stress would probably be fine, though. At least, Ghost hoped so. There was no way that the two of them were getting through this without some sort of tension.

“Oh dear, that is a sizable bug there, isn’t it?”

Ghost  _ really _ needed to stop letting themself get distracted.

Quirrel was gesturing to the sleeping form of the Gruz Mother, keeping his voice low as if he didn’t wish to wake it. “We could likely get past it, but that gate over there presents a problem if we wish to see what lies beyond. We could try finding another way or backtracking, I suppose. Not the option I would have wished to take, but there is still much to explore here.”

Ghost shook their head. They knew the way to get that gate to open.

They hurried over to the Gruz Mother, whipping out their nail and slashing it across the flank of the sleeping foe.

“Ghost! What are you  _ doing _ ?” Quirrel’s distressed voice rang out as the Gruz Mother roused and the gate behind them flew shut. “We are going to talk about this after we get out of this!”

Watched Quirrel pull out his own nail, confused about his reaction. The gates would open once they defeated the Gruz Mother and it wasn’t like it would be a hard fight, especially with Quirrel and the Nail Arts. There was nothing to worry about and Ghost had solved the problem of how they were going to progress.

For now, Ghost turned their attention to the Gruz Mother as it lazily drifted around, ready for her to suddenly start charging around the small space.

Between copious uses of the Great Slash, frantic dodging, and Quirrel’s pinpoint precision with a nail, the Gruz Mother fell to them in short order. The first time they had ran into the Gruz Mother, Ghost remembered being… worried? No, they hadn’t really started feeling until later on. The Gruz Mother had registered as a decent threat to them at the time, though. Now it was nothing, even with their weakened nail.

Ghost was proud of how far they’d come.

“Now that this fight is over,” Quirrel started, turning his back to the Gruz Mother, “I believe that we must—”

Ghost rushed past Quirrel towards the Gruz Mother, having spotted the telltale squirming of its stomach.

“Ghost, what are you—?”

The gruzzers erupted from the corpse. Ghost started swinging their nail.

“That is… entirely disgusting,” Quirrel said before he joined in, easily picking off the gruzzers that drifted around the room.

Just as before, once all of them had been killed, the gates on both sides of the room opened up, allowing them to leave in either direction they chose. Ghost perked up and started taking steps to head towards the abandoned village where they knew that they’d be able to find Sly.

“Hold on a moment, Ghost,” Quirrel called. Ghost stopped and turned to face him, cocking their head to one side.

“I have noticed your tendency to… rush into battle with little to no thought,” Quirrel started, his voice slow and controlled. “While you’re quite brave, I am admittedly worried about the recklessness that you have displayed in the short time that we’ve known each other. Charging at that beast in the armory, rushing to take on any enemy you saw when we escorted Myla, jumping off the ledge in the area before we met Cornifer, practically leaning over the stagway when we didn’t know what could be coming, and now this. I… I fear that you’re placing too little value on your own life while we go up against the unknown. Are you  _ certain _ that you’re alright to continue on this journey?”

Ghost couldn’t help but stare at Quirrel.

They were just so familiar with the Forgotten Crossroads and it all seemed so  _ easy _ after they had braved everything that Hallownest had to offer. They knew what to expect and what they could take. It made perfect sense that Quirrel  _ didn’t _ have that information and of course he had noticed Ghost’s confidence. He was too observant to miss it. He just seemed to have misinterpreted it as something else. Not that Ghost could blame him—Quirrel had done the best he could with the information available to him.

And maybe Ghost  _ was _ pushing themself towards danger a little too hard. They just… wanted to move onto the rest of Hallownest. To get past the Forgotten Crossroads and onto Greenpath and the Fungal Wastes and—

Ghost stopped themself before they got distracted again.

They made sure that they were making eye contact with Quirrel before they gave a single, strong nod.

“I won’t think badly of you if you wish to stop,” Quirrel said. “It is the saner decision to make by far. I will stop asking after this, but I must do so once more and I implore you to answer honestly: do you wish to press onwards?”

Ghost nodded, no doubt in their mind.

Quirrel sighed and his posture lost some of its tension. “Alright then. Now, since I assume we shall continue traveling with one another—oh my, you don’t need to nod that hard. Since we  _ will _ continue traveling with one another, I must insist that we develop some form of signal or system so that I can be warned before you go rushing off. I should have mentioned something like this the last time we spoke, but it slipped my mind.”

Ghost stared at Quirrel. A signal  _ would _ be smart, especially since they didn’t have a voice. Acting out what they meant did work, but it was far too unreliable when they were about to engage in battle. And it would actually allow Quirrel to prepare instead of simply reacting.

Ghost nodded.

“Good, good,” Quirrel said, nodding in return. Ghost was happy to note that his tone had grown lighter once they had agreed. “Did you have any sort of ideas in mind?”

Ghost let their hand touch their chin, doing their best to come up with an appropriate signal. Drawing out their nail could work! But no, they did that all too often. And what if they already had their nail drawn? Quirrel was bound to get confused by it if that’s what they went with. Maybe they could point? But they pointed so  _ much _ that it would hardly go noticed. Maybe…

Ghost looked up at Quirrel again to dejectedly shake their head.

“That’s perfectly fine!” Quirrel reassured them. “I happen to know a great deal of signs myself so it should be easy enough to come up with something. Hm… how does this look?”

Quirrel held his left hand up in a loose fist, a single claw extended to point upwards. He then took his right hand and formed another fist, bringing it towards his extended finger so that his knuckles brushed up against it.

Ghost cocked their head to one side and replicated the motion for themself.

“Perfect!” Quirrel praised. “That sign means ‘attack.’ It seems appropriate and simple enough for what we’re planning with it. And if your nail is ever drawn, it can substitute for your one hand, like so.”

Quirrel drew his own nail and held it aloft so it pointed skyward before repeating the same motion with his right hand, connecting with the nail instead of his hand.

Ghost took out their own nail and repeated the motion several times before looking back up to Quirrel.

“Brilliant,” Quirrel said, reaching out to pat Ghost once again. Ghost eagerly leaned into it. “Now we have a much more effective communication method! I would be willing to teach you more signs if you wish to learn them, but as I said earlier I shall not pressure you to do so if you don’t see fit.”

Ghost nodded once Quirrel had retracted his hand. They wished that they could extend their thanks in some way for the offer but came up short for how to best do so. They settled for bowing, doing their best to imitate the Nailmasters.

Quirrel chuckled. “What excellent manners, and so formal as well! If you wish, I can show you one more sign before we move on?”

Ghost nodded, eager to learn more.

“Here,” Quirrel said. He held his right hand flat before raising it to the area on his face below his eyes. He then moved it outwards and slightly downwards. “That means ‘thank you.’ Not that your bow wasn’t wonderful, but this seems to be a bit simpler.”

Ghost copied the move a few times in order to practice it. Once they were sure that they had it, they turned to look Quirrel in the eyes and executed it once more.

Quirrel laughed once again. He took his right hand, cupping it slightly, and held it in front of his right side. He made a short swooping motion to bring it in front of his chest. “You’re welcome.”

Ghost perked up at the next new sign, intently practicing it a couple of times.

“Impromptu signing lesson aside,” Quirrel said once Ghost felt confident in the movement, “the gates have opened up for us. I haven’t the slightest clue as to why or how they seem to open when we defeat the feral bugs here, but at this point I’m fairly certain that it’s not a coincidence. Very odd indeed.”

Ghost… hadn’t actually thought about that before. Gates opening when they killed enemies had always just kind of been a thing that happened. But now that Quirrel mentioned it, they couldn’t help but be incredibly curious about how the two were linked.

“It feels as though we stumble across more mysteries every time that we take another step,” Quirrel said. “Hopefully we’ll be able to get some answers soon, as well. For now, let’s cover as much ground as we can and discover all the wonders we can find.”

Ghost nodded and drew their nail out. Quirrel easily took his own in hand as they left the area.

* * *

“This looks as though it was once a cozy location,” Quirrel noted, taking in the abandoned village around them. “That laughter in the distance is only further unsettling me… what could be causing it, I wonder.”

Ghost simply shrugged, in absolutely no rush to see Salubra any sooner than they had to. Something about her made them uneasy but they could never pinpoint what or why. Best to just avoid her until they needed to buy charms from her.

Beside, Ghost had other plans for the moment. Like reaching Sly and rousing him from his trance-like state so that he could shake the Infection from himself. Then Ghost would focus their attention on taking out the False Knight and reaching the Ancestral Mound so that they could reacquire Vengeful Spirit.

“There aren’t too many foes here,” Quirrel noted, drawing Ghost’s attention. “And there appears to be a light coming from one of the homes. Perhaps someone is trapped there?”

Ghost nodded, taking out their nail and gesturing towards the husks. They then lifted it to point upwards and formed a fist with their other hand before tapping it against their nail.

Quirrel hummed, grabbing his weapon. “Yes, I’m much of the same mind as you here, my friend. An excellent suggestion.”

Ghost perked up and ran at the husks, Quirrel right beside them as they did. The two them made quick work of their foes, orange fluid flying as they slashed and stabbed their way to victory.

Quirrel took out the last husk, lunging forward almost faster than Ghost could keep up with and easily piercing its exoskeleton. The husk went limp and Quirrel pulled his nail out and flicked off as much orange as he could.

“I do believe that was all of them,” Quirrel announced once he seemed content with the state of his nail. “Shall we explore the home with the light on now?”

Ghost nodded.

“Remember to keep your nail drawn. We do not know what we may have to face once we enter.”

Ghost did, in fact, know what they would have to face. They still kept their nail out, though, just to make sure that Quirrel wouldn’t worry about them.

Quirrel took cautious steps towards the house before pulling open the door, keeping his nail raised as he did so. Finally, the door was fully opened and Ghost could make out Sly’s muttering form on the floor of the structure.

“Ah, this one seems to speak,” Quirrel said, his voice soft and low. “That seems at least somewhat promising. Still best to stay armed, though, I think. Shall we try to introduce ourselves?”

Ghost nodded.

Quirrel stepped inside, waving his hand towards himself. Ghost took the cue and went to go and followed him closely.

Ghost could hear Sly give a garbled groan. “… Oro you oaf… You wield your nail… like a club… Esmy… how much deeper do we have to go…”

Ghost perked up slightly at Oro’s name. They had completely forgotten Sly’s ramblings from the first time they had found him, dismissing it as insane mumblings. It was interesting to see that Sly was thinking of his apprentices even when the Infection threatened to take him over. Ghost wondered if ‘Esmy’ was another name or simply an exclamation of some sort. It was hard to say and it wasn’t like they could just  _ ask _ Sly.

Quirrel cleared his throat. “Hello? Are you… alright?”

Sly whipped around, the sickening orange aura of the Infection flickering in his eyes. Ghost tensed at the image, desperately hoping that Sly wasn’t about to attack.

Thankfully, Sly squeezed his eyes shut and furiously shook his head. When he stopped and opened his eyes again, the glow was gone. “Oh! What? Who are you two?”

Quirrel glanced at Ghost before turning to address Sly. “My name is Quirrel and this is my companion, Ghost. We were investigating this area with abandoned homes in it when we happened to stumble upon you.”

“...I see. This old village,” Sly said, his gaze going vacant for a few moments. The look vanished quickly, focusing back on Quirrel and Ghost. “What a strange dream, to have led me down here! If you two hadn't found me, I don't think I would've ever woken.”

“That would have indeed been unfortunate,” Quirrel said. “May I ask for your name?”

“Oh, certainly. I'm Sly. Usually, I live an uneventful life up in Dirtmouth. The air in these ruins doesn't agree with me, so I'd best be getting back. If you two return above, come and see me. I'm probably the friendliest face left there, and I can thank you both properly for your good deed.”

“That's very kind of you to do so,” Quirrel said.

Ghost nodded quickly. It took them a few seconds to realize that they could sign their thanks and promptly did so.

“Ah, Ghost is offering their thanks so well,” Quirrel translated. “Would you care for us to escort you back to the stag station?”

Sly blinked rapidly twice. “Stag station?”

“Yes! Ghost and I—though mostly Ghost—opened it up. There is still a stag, old though he may be, running through the stagways. I was completely surprised by it myself, but I am very happy to know that I was able to meet such an amazing bug.”

“I see,” Sly hummed. “That's quite an interesting piece of information. I will be fine without an escort and I know where the stag station here is. I will find my own way back.”

Sly stood up and started to make his way past Ghost and Quirrel. He paused in the doorframe for a moment, turning his head to look at Ghost and Quirrel. 

“Best of luck to you with whatever it is you're doing,” Sly said. After another pause, “May your nails stay sharp.”

And then he was gone.

“What an interesting fellow,” Quirrel commented. “I didn't see him carrying a weapon, but the air of confidence about him makes me believe that there may be more to him than he has let on. Or perhaps he is simply overconfident in his abilities. Either way, I hope that he fares well and we shall get the opportunity to see him again.”

Ghost nodded. They had no doubt that the Great Nailsage could handle his own against a few husks, especially right after they and Quirrel had all but cleared the way back. It would probably take a little while longer for all of the feral bugs to rise back up. And even if they came up sooner than expected, Sly would be fine.

“While we’re here, let’s check our map again,” Quirrel suggested. Ghost easily pulled it out and held it for both of them to see. “Hm… we seem to have gone completely off of it now. Let’s see if we can find another path from this section. If we can’t, let’s decide on a new route to take.”

Ghost nodded and stowed the map away.

After some completely fruitless searching, neither of them could find another way to progress. The only path they could find was too high and far for them to reach. Ghost knew that they’d be able to get up to Salubra’s shop once they got the Mothwing Cloak, but for now they were fairly certain that they’d hit a dead end.

“Looks like we’ll have to do some backtracking,” Quirrel commented. Ghost pulled the map back out again. “There appear to be several places that we could head to next. The closest ones seem to be the two unexplored pathways in the large area that connects to the stag station and the one path in the room west of us. I wouldn’t mind heading back to the stag station in order to make sure Sly arrived safely. What do you think?”

Ghost stared at the map long and hard. Sly would be fine, so they didn’t feel any real need to get back to Dirtmouth yet. They’d definitely have to go somewhat soon in order to purchase supplies from him and Iselda, but they could put that off for a little bit longer in order to get more Geo. Two of the paths that Quirrel had suggested led to dead ends at that point in time—one to the elevator that led to the City of Tears and the other to an opening from Crystal Peaks that they couldn't open from this side.

The best thing for Ghost to do was to stick to their original plan.

They pointed to the sketch of the False Knight’s head on the map.

“Ah, that area,” Quirrel hummed. “I have been wondering what exactly that particular drawing entails myself. Perhaps a great statue?”

Ghost shrugged.

“Well, I suppose that we’ll find out soon enough,” Quirrel said. “Let’s head back that way now.”

Ghost nodded and put the map away.

They took out their nail as they followed Quirrel, ready to once again face down the False Knight. They had already beaten it once before. How hard could it be to do it a second time? Especially with Quirrel by their side and full knowledge of the Nail Arts.

It would be just as easy as the rest of the Forgotten Crossroads, Ghost was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Quirrel is worried about this small bean and ayyy Sly was saved (he seems to have sensed... something in Ghost). And Ghost? Touch-starved? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Plus Ghost knows some signs now! Joy of joys!
> 
> I'm basing the signs off of American Sign Language right now, but I might pull bits and pieces from elsewhere, too. Also, this is my first time writing characters that use signs so please let me know if there's anything about it that I should fix. Some of the narration may not reflect Ghost as actually talking with their signs since I'm interpreting that "no voice" extends to more than just vocally forming words. Still, if this is disrespectful please let me know so that I can fix it or find another way to address it!
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading. I hope that you liked the chapter and, as always, I really appreciate any feedback, kudos, or bookmarks!!


	6. Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The False Knight fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm freaking out, this fic is getting so much love and support, ya'll are gonna make me cry. The comments??? Everything??? Fucking superb.
> 
> First of all, BIG thank you to [eeveecat1248](https://eeveecat1248.tumblr.com) for making these absolutely AMAZING edits for this fic!! You can [find them here](https://eeveecat1248.tumblr.com/post/186243313131/)—check it out, they're really great!
> 
> And a shoutout to [ghostyreader-gaming](https://ghostyreader-gaming.tumblr.com) for the tumblr post and glowing review [(found here)!](https://ghostyreader-gaming.tumblr.com/post/186355058812/) The fact that you'd make a post after leaving such a nice comment was awesome!
> 
> If ya'll make any posts or make anything related to this fic, please _please_ let me know so that I can freak out over it. Feel free to tag me (my tumblr is zykaben.tumblr.com) or leave links!
> 
> Also, to address something I've seen numerous times in the comments: **Ghost's death will operate as in Steel Soul mode**. While Quirrel freaking the fuck out over Ghost's Shade would be priceless, I feel like that death mechanic works better for this fic as a whole and keeps a certain amount of tension. 
> 
> So yeah, if Ghost dies, it's for real. That being said, Jinn and Tuk will probably still be present as if in normal mode.
> 
> Anyway, long intro is Done. Without further ado, onto chapter six!

The pathway to reach the False Knight was simple enough to traverse, Ghost and Quirrel taking down any husk or aspid that dared to attack them. Not for the first time, Ghost couldn’t help but wonder if the Infection was so powerful as to destroy all sense of self-preservation or if these bugs were just like that normally.

Well, the husks certainly weren’t since they wouldn’t be up and about without the Infection. The aspids were fair game to consider, though. Maybe their minds were just too simple to realize that the pile of corpses around Quirrel and Ghost was an indicator of their demise? Ghost had no clue.

They brushed that tram of thought aside as they took out another husk, the last one in the immediate area.

“I think we’re getting close to that marked room on the map,” Quirrel commented as he walked onwards. “I must confess that my curiosity is burning and my imagination is running wild. Something about that symbol leads me to believe that it’s going to be quite interesting.”

Ghost wouldn’t really call the False Knight interesting themself, but they understood what Quirrel was saying. The sketch had drawn them to the room the first time they had been here, too. Ghost wondered if Cornifer had only briefly entered the room and spotted the helmet of the armor before heading out. He certainly hadn’t fought the False Knight, that Ghost was sure of. Cornifer, from what Ghost knew of him, was _not_ a fighter.

For now Ghost would stick with their initial guess.

They stepped into the area that housed the False Knight, only a few paces behind Quirrel. Quirrel was already doing his best to take in as much of the room as he could.

“Something about this place…” Quirrel mumbled, just barely loud enough for Ghost to make out. “The warmth here fills me with a faint sense of unease. Perhaps I’m simply imagining it?”

Ghost cocked their head to the side. They didn’t feel any difference between this room and those before it. Then again, it wouldn’t surprise them to learn that they couldn’t feel changes in temperatures the way most bugs could.

“Let’s look around,” Quirrel said, “but remain vigilant. I would rather be proven to be unnecessarily paranoid than be caught unawares.”

Ghost nodded. Quirrel must have had some sort of extra sense when it came to danger. Or maybe it was an effect of Monomon’s mask. Maybe both? No matter how he had it, Ghost thought it was pretty neat. Not to mention very helpful.

“Oh no,” Quirrel sighed when he caught sight of the gate on the opposite end of the room. “That’s certainly not a good omen. Perhaps we will get lucky and find a lever of some sort instead of having to fight an enemy? I very much hope that will be the case, but we shouldn’t count on it.”

Ghost nodded again. They felt bad about the fact that Quirrel wouldn’t get his wish, but the two of them could definitely handle the oncoming fight.

Once they had thoroughly explored the base level and found nothing of interest within their reach, Quirrel suggested that the two of them climb up the opening by the entrance. Ghost easily jumped up, growing closer to the battle with every step. Soon enough, they reached the highest point that they could currently reach.

“A pity we can’t get up higher that where we are,” Quirrel remarked. “If we had some rope and hooks perhaps we could make our way up. I haven’t the faintest idea where we’d find such things, but it’s something to keep an eye out for, I suppose.”

Ghost simply shrugged. Once they had the Mantis Claw it would be easy to get up there. Maybe they could grab another one for Quirrel to use? They couldn’t remember how many Mantis Claws had been in the Mantis Village when they had taken theirs.

That was a problem for later, though.

For now, Ghost could see the husks that were wandering around. They knew full well what awaited them once they went to go and charge at them.

Ghost turned to Quirrel and signed _“attack.”_

“Let’s,” Quirrel agreed. He had already had his nail drawn so he simply took on a fighting stance and waited for Ghost to take the lead.

Ghost was more than happy to oblige, making sure that they weren’t too far ahead of Quirrel in case the False Knight dropped sooner than they expected it to.

And sure enough, once Quirrel and Ghost had taken out two of the husks and were just about to reach the end of the arena-like area, the gates slammed shut. The last husk was crushed mercilessly by it, orange splattering against metal.

“Oh that’s not—”

The ground shook as a loud _boom_ sounded behind them. Quirrel and Ghost whipped around and stood to face the False Knight as it roared.

The False Knight seemed smaller than Ghost remembered, but that may just have been because they knew what to expect this go around.

Ghost began to ready a Great Slash, feeling the power build in them as they prepared to dodge the False Knight’s ‘mace.’ They turned to glance at Quirrel, excitement running through them as they watched to see what their friend would do.

The excitement promptly turned to horror as Quirrel’s nail clattered against the ground, his eyes wide and taking a shaky step backwards.

“Th-that’s—” Quirrel stuttered, pointing a shaky finger at the False Knight. “That i-is—I d-don’t know but—this is _bad._ We c-can’t beat a _knight,_ especially not—not—Heg—”

Ghost was terrified by Quirrel’s reaction. Why was he reacting like that? The two of them had to fight or else they’d both _die._  

The False Knight jumped upwards, winding up to slam its mace into them.

Ghost grabbed Quirrel by the arm with their free hand, dragging him out of the way of the incoming attack. They could grab the nail later. Right now keeping Quirrel safe was far more important.

“I don’t know who that is but I _do,_ ” Quirrel breathed out, his voice awash with pure fear. “We need to get _out._ ”

Ghost was starting to realize that this was going to be a lot harder than it had been before. They needed to get Quirrel back to normal and _fast._

Ghost tried shaking Quirrel’s arm as hard as they dared. It didn’t seem to have any effect on him. They glanced back at the False Knight, flinching as they saw it winding up an attack that was bound to cause a shockwave.

Ghost wouldn’t be able to get both themself and Quirrel out of the way. The smart thing, the one that made more sense, would be to jump over it themself instead of getting hurt alongside Quirrel.

Ghost barely managed to jump in time, fully flinching as they watched Quirrel thrown back by the ensuing shockwave.

Another emotion stirred up alongside their worry. It wasn’t long before it blazed bright inside of them.

Fury.

How _dare_ this maggot, this imposter, this _coward_ hurt their friend? How dare it render Ghost helpless to help Quirrel? How dare it make something simple into something that seemed so very grave?

It wasn’t _allowed_ to do that.

Not to Ghost or any of their friends. _Ever._

Ghost charged up a Great Slash and raced towards the maggot, swinging their nail as hard as they could manage. They didn’t make a dent in the armor, but they didn’t need to. They just had to jostle the coward inside of it enough to force it out.

The maggot would fall to their nail.

Ghost would see to it themself.

The maggot seemed surprised by Ghost’s attack, stumbling back slightly before trying to bring its mace down on them again.

Ghost wasn’t going to let its attacks hit them. They _refused._

They quickly darted out of the way of the incoming attack, getting off a slash while the maggot heaved its weapon back up. Ghost hit it once more for good measure before putting distance between the two of them.

The maggot seemed to be of the same mind because it jumped backwards and began to wind up another shockwave attack.

Ghost hoped that they were far away enough from Quirrel for him to avoid being hit. They jumped over the attack.

_Clink!_

Ghost scanned the arena, desperately looking for the source of the sound. Their gaze landed on Quirrel.

Quirrel, who was standing up with his nail in hand. Quirrel, who was shaking violently but had managed to find it somewhere in himself to attack the maggot he feared so much.

He was already racing away from the maggot, getting as far away as he could given the enclosed space.

“I won’t let you fight alone!” Quirrel shouted, his voice wavering but determined. “Let us t-take down this knight together or die trying!”

If Ghost could give a shout of their own in return, they would. Instead, they signed _“attack”_ again and the battle proceeded anew.

Quirrel’s attacks were hesitant and more cautious than usual, but Ghost couldn't find it in themself to label his attacks as being sloppy. Quirrel’s strikes were too specific, always aiming for any weak points in the armor that he could spot. Ghost themself made copious use of the Great Slash, doing their best to get the fight over with as quickly as possible.

Finally, the two of them had hit the armor enough that the maggot fell over, the helmet falling off as it did and revealing its stupid, fragile head.

Quirrel stared at it. “That’s not… the knight.”

Ghost shook their head and rushed forwards. They wish that they had Quick Slash so that they could get as many hits as possible off on the maggot, but one Great Slash followed by regular hits would have to do. Quirrel was by their side in only a second, stabbing at the white, soft body of the maggot.

The maggot quickly pulled its head far back into the armor and grabbed its fallen helmet and mace as it stood. Quirrel and Ghost both backed away, watching it jump into the center of the arena.

“This is an imposter,” Quirrel said. “I do not know how I know that for certain, but something in me has been soothed. My faith in our chances of victory have gone up quite substantially.”

Ghost suddenly realized that Quirrel’s buried memories may have contained information on whoever had _originally_ owned the suit of armor. Ghost could only imagine what kind of mighty bug could inspire that much fear in Quirrel, even without him fully recognizing what it was.

The sound of the mace slamming several times into the ground brought Ghost from their thoughts. Soon, debris was falling down around them. Quirrel and Ghost separated to weave through the falling rocks. Ghost did their best to send a few flying back at the maggot, but it was hard to aim correctly when they were more focused on dodging, even if they had such a big target.

The maggot finished failing the mace around and fixed its sights onto Ghost and Quirrel, helmet swiveling back and forth like it couldn’t decide which of them to attack first. Ghost wanted it to come at them.

It jumped towards Quirrel. Ghost was instantly in hot pursuit

Quirrel easily leaped out of the way of the ensuing attack, gracefully jumping over the follow shockwave. He rushed forwards and landed a few hits on the armor before bouncing out of range of the mace.

Ghost was glad that Quirrel’s fighting was no longer affected by his earlier fear and dealt another Great Slash to the armor’s back.

The fight continued in a similar matter, Ghost or Quirrel distracting the maggot and goading it into attacking before the other went behind its back to deal as many heavy hits as possible. Ghost managed to slip up a few times, getting hit once by the mace itself and twice by shockwaves. Quirrel was only doing slightly better, only having gotten hit directly once. Ghost had been _terrified_ when they saw Quirrel get hit, the relief that flooded through them when he stood back up almost bringing them to their knees.

The fight was _not_ going the way Ghost wanted it to. The maggot, somehow, was more aggressive than Ghost remembered it being. Why was it so much more of a threat now?

Finally, the armor fell over for the third time, the maggot’s head popping out. Quirrel and Ghost were on top of it in an instant, bringing their nails down on it together.

The maggot still wasn’t dead, but Ghost knew it couldn’t be a whole lot longer by now. There was no way that they were going to let themself or Quirrel die to the _maggot._

After they had gotten a few good hits in, the maggot once again pulled its helmet back on and leaped into the center of the arena. Quirrel and Ghost readied themselves as the mace pounded into the ground, moving out of the way of the falling rubble.

That was when Ghost noticed the cracks forming on the ground from underneath the armor’s weight and brutality of mace attacks.

Then they saw Quirrel rush forwards to land a hit on the maggot.

Ghost knew that they didn’t have a voice, but they still did their best to _scream._

The floor broke beneath the maggot and Quirrel, the two of them falling to the ground below.

Ghost jumped down as quickly as they could without Descending Dark.

The maggot was stuck in the armor that had seemed to lock up around it, whimpering and blubbering as it lay on the ground exposed.

Quirrel’s was lying on the ground nearby, his body limp and nail resting a few feet away.

Ghost sprinted over, frantically scanning Quirrel for injuries. They cringed with their whole body when they saw cracks in Quirrel's exoskeleton that were leaking out blue fluid

Ghost quickly placed their hands on Quirrel's chest, a small amount of their panic receding when they felt Quirrel’s chest move as he breathed, shallow and shaky as its rise was.

They had to get him out of here. Get him to someone who could help him and get him to stop _bleeding._

Dirtmouth was so far _away_ and Ghost didn’t know of any bugs there that could heal. The hot spring? That could work. It would be really hard to get to from here, but it was manageable. They just needed to get through the Ancestral Mound before heading down a big fall and then fighting their way through enemies and—

Ghost stopped.

The Ancestral Mound was home to the Snail Shaman.

The Snail Shaman had magic and spells.

He could probably help Quirrel.

For a price.

Ghost hoped that their quest would be the same as the first time. The baldurs were all easy enough to defeat and Ghost would need Vengeful Spirit to take out the older ones so maybe the Snail Shaman would just request an extra favor?

Ghost didn’t care that much at that point.

Whatever the Snail Shaman asked for, they’d give.

They would take Quirrel to him and do whatever they could to convince the Snail Shaman to help.

But first Ghost needed to open the gate.

They drew their nail and turned to the maggot.

Maybe if it hadn’t hurt Quirrel so badly, Ghost would have felt bad about hurting it. Maybe they would have felt pity that its life had to end and that it had become a victim of the Infection.

They didn’t feel that way now.

They simply attacked the maggot until it died, granting it the mercy of a swift death but nothing more. They snatched up the City Crest as soon as it hit the ground before them.

They were already back at Quirrel’s side when the gates opened. Ghost tried to figure out the best way to pick Quirrel up. Ghost had no clue how heavy Quirrel would be and he was so much bigger that carrying him was bound to be awkward.

Ghost shook their head. They just had to find the best way to lift him and get him to the Snail Shaman. Simple.

But maybe not easy.

Ghost considered the best angle to lift him from when they saw Quirrel’s nail in the corner of their vision. They ran over and sheathed it next to their own before hurrying back to Quirrel. There was a good chance that it wouldn’t be there when they came back.

Finally deciding on a plan on how to pick him up, Ghost did their best to slip their arms under Quirrel. It was hard to get a decent grip on him, but they managed. They gently started trying to lift Quirrel up.

Ghost was shocked to realize that he was as light as Grimmchild had been, maybe ever lighter.

That didn’t seem right at _all._ Quirrel had to have more mass, it wasn’t possible for him not—

That was when Ghost noticed that Monomon’s mask was _glowing_ faintly, an intricate-looking seal shining above it, its lines hardly visible as ooma-like tendrils floated above it.

Ghost stared for a few moments. Monomon’s mask _had_ to be what was making him lighter. Maybe it was some kind of aid to Quirrel as well as a final binding for Monomon?

They could consider that later, though.

For now, Ghost ran as quickly as they could towards the Ancestral Mound. They had to slow down once they started jumping onto ledges to head upwards—light as Quirrel was, he was still the same size as he had been before and Ghost did _not_ want to risk dropping him.

The path to the entrance of the Ancestral Mound seemed way longer than Ghost recalled it being, especially without the Monarch Wings or Mantis Claw.

After what felt like an eternity, Ghost finally reached the peak and quickly made their way into the temple, sparing no time to take in the familiar… decor.

They were greeted with the sight of the silver-colored metal bench that rested just by the entrance and the Snail Shaman standing outside his little hut made of bones. The Snail Shaman soon noticed Ghost, his eyes widening ever so slightly the only reaction he gave.

“Oho!” the Snail Shaman exclaimed. “Who is that creeping out of the darkness? My, you're looking grim! A strange, empty face and a wicked looking weapon! Not to mention the corpse you carry. A trophy from a battle bravely fought, I see.”

Ghost immediately shook their head, taking great care to gently place Quirrel down on the bench. They pointed to his wounds and made several frantic motions with their arms, panic causing them to simply flail before they could think of some way to let the Snail Shaman _know._

“Not an enemy?” he guessed. Ghost nodded furiously. “And you’re much too tender with that bug for it to be a corpse. Perhaps the reason you've found me is because you need my help?”

Ghost nodded as hard and as frantically as they could. Quirrel needed help. _Now._

The Snail Shaman seemed to consider Ghost for far too long—precious moments were being _lost_ —before he started chuckling. “Say no more, friend. I shall help this bug. But I was wondering whether you would do me a small favor. Not as repayment for my help of course, simply because we're now friends. Oh, agreeing so quickly! I knew that I would like you, friend. You see, a horrid great beast has made its home in the heart of this temple. Such disrespect! I would be quite grateful if you were to venture deeper in and slay it for me. But you’ll need something besides that nail in order to do it. And, since I am your friend, I'm going to give you a gift, a nasty little spell of my own creation. It's just perfect for a little one like you! Ohoho!”

With that, the Snail Shaman started to wave his staff. The familiar and violent aura of Vengeful Spirit slowly rose into the air. Ghost leaped into it the moment they could.

As like before, the power of the gifted spell kept them suspended in the air a few moments before the white aura came rushing into their body, claiming Ghost as its new owner and wielder once more.

Ghost braced themself to fall unconscious and hit the ground, but they quickly found themself falling. Their landing was clumsy, but they managed to stay upright and completely awake.

They turned to look at the Snail Shaman.

“You best be going on,” he said. “The beast in there is a hardy creature, but with your new power you're more than a match for it! Good luck with this small favor, my friend!” He then laughed in that way that was distinctly his.

Ghost only took a few more seconds to realize that knocking them unconscious the first time had _definitely_ been purposeful.

They could think over that later.

For now, they had their own end of the bargain to keep up.

Ghost did their best to push their worry for Quirrel out of their mind. They had baldurs to slay. Quirrel would be fine.

He had to be.

Ghost didn’t know what they would do if he wasn’t.

Ghost shook their head, doing their best to banish the negative thoughts. Instead, they focused their attention on the task ahead. They rushed further into the temple, nail by their side as they entered the familiar, corpse-filled area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmfao rip quirrel (not really)
> 
> ghost is an angry bb
> 
> also nice job to all ya'll who called the foreshadowing.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and please leave feedback/kudos/bookmarks/whatever you can!


	7. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Quirrel Plays Twenty Questions
> 
> I feel like a broken record, but I have to say thank you again!! You guys leave the nicest comments ever and each one makes my day. Especially big shoutouts to MirrorDragon and BlueNekomata: I'm always so excited when I see that you guys commented!!!! 
> 
> So yeah, big thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments. Y'all rock.
> 
> Quick housekeeping: this week has been not great for me and next week is busy so the next chapter may take longer. I'll do my best but I can't promise.
> 
> Also sorry if the formatting is off, uploading this on my phone, rip.
> 
> Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy the chapter!

Quirrel regained consciousness and promptly wished that he was asleep again.

Every part of his body  _ ached _ terribly, dull pain flowing through his body. Quirrel felt as though he’d taken a nasty tumble and somehow managed to hit every last part of his exoskeleton. He supposed that he wasn’t too far off, having fallen down the hole that the bug in the armor had created. Still, it certainly wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever experienced but it was hardly pleasant.

What  _ had _ been the worst pain he had experienced? He knew for a fact that he had been is worse condition, but for the life of him he could not recall it. There was a thick fog hanging over his mind, preventing him from grasping at his memories and adding to his feeling of overall sluggishness.

Quirrel tilted his head back slightly and let out a groan.

“Oho! So you arise at last!”

Quirrel’s eyes shot open and he sat up with a burst of speed. His body quickly protested, sending a shock of pain throughout him that caused him to gasp.

“Oh no, don’t do that, friend. We can’t have you harming yourself again just yet.”

Quirrel didn’t recognize the voice at all. He very much did not like waking up in pain and hearing a strange voice calling him ‘friend.’

He blinked several times, doing his best to clear his vision. The world around him came into focus slowly but surely, blurred colors coming to form clear edges. Quirrel was more than a little alarmed to notice that the exoskeletons of other bugs—corpses—littered the ground so thoroughly that he didn’t have the faintest clue as to what laid underneath. He could feel the cool, hard metal of a bench, thankful he was sitting on one instead of the ground.

There was a figure standing next to him, its body an inky black and a staff with the head of a bug on the end held in its grip. A necklace of more exoskeleton heads formed something a collar around its neck, two bright white eyes staring at him from underneath a dull blue spiral shell.

Quirrel blinked and carefully considered the bug before him. Snails were known to be crafty spellcasters. They weren’t necessarily hostile to others, but neither were they ones who typically acted out of the goodness of their own hearts.

Quirrel didn’t know where that knowledge came from, but he easily dismissed it as his mind still being clouded over. Besides, it wouldn’t be right to treat this snail purely based on rumors that Quirrel had heard.

Quirrel also noticed a distinct lack of Ghost’s presence. Their absence only added to his wariness and Quirrel tried to suppress a flinch at being left alone in an unfamiliar place. It likely wouldn’t be that noticeable even if he did—he could easily brush it off as being in pain.

For now, Quirrel would settle on gathering more information on what had happened while giving away as little as he could.

“Hello,” Quirrel greeted the stranger. It was polite enough, considering the circumstances. At least, he hoped so.

“And greetings to you as well,” the snail returned, jovial and low. “It’s a wonderful thing to see you awake and mostly well. You’ll feel even better in short order, I’m certain.”

That was far too cryptic for Quirrel’s liking, but he decided not to comment on it. “I see. I’m… glad to hear that. Now I hate to sound rude, but… could you possibly explain, um—”

“Of course, of course!” the snail cut him off. “Our friend—the small one with the empty face and the broken nail—came through here carrying you. You were in quite a sorry state! They seemed very worried about you and asked me to help you.”

“They asked you?” Quirrel questioned, his suspicion hitting an all new high.

“Not as such,” the snail said. “They flailed a good bit and were very insistent that you were both a friend and not dead through a series of nodding and head shaking. It was quite simple to figure out that they were quite worried about you! I simply offered assistance and they were more than happy to accept.”

“I see,” Quirrel said.  _ That _ sounded much closer to what he expected and helped to wash away some of his nerves. Quirrel was fairly certain now that the snail had at least met and communicated with Ghost in some capacity due to his description. He wasn’t about to just believe  _ everything _ that the other bug said, but he would be much more willing to listen to him. “Do you happen to know where they might be?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” the snail said. “I do not know exactly where they are, of course, but I know where they were and where they will be. You need not worry about them. They’ll be back in short order, I’m sure.”

“That’s good to know,” Quirrel said. “Do you know why they’ve ran off?”

“Ah, a question for a question!” the snail exclaimed. “You’re quite the curious one, but so am I. You’ve asked a question or two so now I shall ask one of my own. That certainly sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

Quirrel hesitated. The snail didn’t seem hostile and Quirrel doubted that Ghost would just leave him if they didn’t think that he was safe. If the snail did wish to cause him harm, then Quirrel figured that he already could have done it while he was unconscious. Unless he had other goals? It was hard to say, but for now Quirrel would go with the conclusion that had the least amount of extra explanations—the straightforward answer wasn’t always the correct one but it was all he could really go off of right now.

“That sounds like a reasonable request,” Quirrel said after a few moments. “I may not answer depending on the question, but if that happens then I would be open to you asking a different one instead. So long as you agree to those terms, as well.”

“Oho!” the snail chuckled. “You’re a clever one! Yes, of course, I’m perfectly fine abiding by those rules—anything for a friend. Now, how did you happen to acquire those injuries of yours? They were quite nasty.”

Quirrel looked down at his body. There were a few cracks on his exoskeleton, but nothing nearly as bad as he would have expected from the attacks and the fall he took. “There was a bug who attacked myself and my companion. We fought against it and, despite a somewhat rocky start on my part, we managed to do fairly well. We both suffered a blow or two, but nothing that I considered truly serious. Then it jumped onto what must have been unstable ground. I went in to attack it and the ground gave way beneath the two of us. That is the last thing that I recall.”

There was… something else, something nagging at the back of Quirrel’s mind.  _ I… was afraid. More than I should have been. But why? I can’t seem to recall. Odd… _

The snail nodded, the exoskeletons around his neck clacking together as he did. “I see, I see. It must have been a fearsome foe to present a challenge to you and your small friend. Neither of you seem to be the inexperienced type. Or, so my intuition is telling me and it is rarely incorrect.” The snail laughed lightly. “Ah, but it seems that my turn has come to an end now. Ask your question so that I can ask my own even sooner.”

Quirrel couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of amusement at the other, though it wasn’t enough to ease him into letting his guard down. “Right, of course. I shall return to my earlier question, then: do you know why my companion has ran off?”

“Oho, yes I do.”

Silence.

“… I don’t suppose you’re going to elaborate on that.”

The snail laughed heartily. “I’m only teasing, friend! I am not cruel enough to ignore the implied question and claim that I have answered appropriately. No, that’s no fun and no fair at all. Our friend has headed further into the temple in order to help me with a problem of mine while you rest here.”

“Problem?” Quirrel couldn’t stop himself from asking.

The snail waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, nothing I’m sure that they won’t be able to handle, especially now. You need not worry about them. I’m only answering this because we’re friends, you see. If we weren’t then I would have told you to wait your turn. Quite gracious of me, I must say. Now, my next question. Where did you happen to stumble upon such a fascinating talisman?”

Quirrel stared blankly at the snail. “I… beg your pardon?”

The snail gestured to Quirrel’s head. “Your talisman. The mask that rests upon your head. Unless you have others?”

“The… mask?” Quirrel repeated.

The snail’s eyes widened. “Oho! Now this is quite interesting! Do you mean to say that you were unaware of its abilities? I must say that I cannot fault you for this, it must have been an easy thing to overlook for one such as yourself. Without some affinity or sensitivity to magic it would be near impossible to notice.”

“Magic?” Quirrel asked dumbly.

“You are certainly asking quite a few questions when it isn’t your turn,” the snail said, something chiding in his tone.

“… I don’t know,” Quirrel said.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know where I got the mask,” Quirrel elaborated. “I have had it for as long as I can recall. I cannot remember a time before I wore it. What is this that you were saying about it being a talisman? Having magic?”

The snail hummed. “There is magic imbued into the mask, a seal of some sort. It is not any kind of spellcraft that us snails use, but it is easy to see that the magic it contains is protective in nature. And it is not even meant to protect the wearer—it is meant to protect  _ you, _ friend. There is also something…  _ more _ to it. There is another purpose it serves, one that is also protective in nature but wholly different.”

“That… I honestly don’t know what to make of that,” Quirrel said. “What do you mean by—oh. Right. Turns. Yes. Um, what’s your question?”

“Oho, how very kind of you to ask!” The snail said. “If you were unaware of the talisman’s powers, why is it that you have worn it for as long as you can remember?”

“It just… felt right,” Quirrel said at length. “I can’t imagine just… taking it off and leaving it somewhere. It would be like leaving my nail. I… suppose that I have a reason for feeling that way now, if it truly is magical.”

“Oh, it most certainly is,” the snail affirmed. “Now go on and ask your question. I can see it burning in your eyes.”

“What do you mean by protective magic?” Quirrel asked. “What form does it take? How does it protect me? Why hasn’t it—?”

The snail started laughing again. “Oh my, I was more right than I knew when I thought you the curious type! Why, you’re a veritable scholar with all of your questions and your desire to understand. Now, protective magic is… not a technical magical term that I can simply define for you. But fear not, that mask’s magic seems quite keen to aid you. I cannot say for certain all of the ways it is able to do so, but I imagine that its applications could end up being quite vast. As for the form is currently takes… well, it should act as a rather brilliant shield and it has the ability to revitalize you.”

“Revitalize?”

“Oho! Have you not noticed? Look at yourself, friend, and draw attention to how you are feeling.”

Quirrel glanced down at his body again. 

The cracks on his exoskeleton.

They were almost completely gone and growing smaller by the second.

Quirrel reached down to gently prod at them, trying to discern if it were some sort of illusion.

“It appears to heal your wounds over time,” the snail explained to Quirrel’s disbelief. “Quite a powerful and useful thing! You are most welcome for that.”

“What?” Quirrel asked dumbly.

“I must admit that I was quite drawn to your talisman,” the snail said. “It was full of magic, yet it was… contained. Restrained. I don’t think that it was ever meant to be in such a state, but now my current belief is that it came to be that way over a long period of disuse. It simply took a small prod for it to unravel itself—at least, in part.”

“I’ve been carrying around a powerful magical artifact that shut down because I haven’t used it?” Quirrel asked.

“It would certainly seem so! And I do believe that it can do even more than we have currently found! That’s quite the intriguing secret to unravel.”

Quirrel was having a  _ very _ hard time wrapping his head around what he was learning.  _ My mask? A talisman? One for my protection? Why can’t I remember how I recieved it? Why did I forget about its supposed powers? Why does it sound so  _ right _ yet unbelievable to think that it is truly magical? What are its full capabilities? Will I ever remember what I used it for? What it’s capable of? Why— _

“Oho, I seem to have lost you, friend.”

Quirrel startled out of his thoughts. “Ah. I, um, apologize. This is just… a lot.”

“Of course, of course,” the snail nodded. “Perfectly understandable. Perhaps we should put our game on pause for the time being, until you are able to fully take in all that we have learned.”

Quirrel was about to agree when a loud series of clanking reached him. He turned his attention towards the source of the noise along with the snail.

“Oh, it seems that our friend had returned to us victoriously,” the snail remarked.

Sure enough, there stood Ghost not too far away, wooden debris and corpses by their feet. They looked up and Quirrel could feel the moment Ghost spotted him. He offered a small wave. Ghost reacted by racing towards Quirrel.

“They must be excited to see you back up,” the snail said. 

Only a few moments later, Ghost was standing in front of the snail, frantically signing  _ “thank you” _ over and over again to him.

Quirrel was just about to translate before the snail surprised him and signed  _ “you’re welcome” _ back. 

Ghost nodded before turning to face Quirrel. They stared at him for a few moments before their gaze became fixed on the mask. They started pointing at it insistently.

“Is there… a visible change?” Quirrel asked them.

“Oh, yes, the mask is glowing,” the snail answered. “Did I forget to mention that? Silly me.”

Quirrel scrambled to take the mask off of his head, flipping it over to look at the front of it. Sure enough, to his slight astonishment, it truly  _ was _ glowing, a series of lines and symbols hovering softly above its surface. They were fading quickly and soon vanished, but Quirrel couldn’t manage to tear his eyes away from it.

He only startled slightly when he felt a gentle tap against his arm. He looked over to look at Ghost. They cocked their head to one side.

“I’ll… explain it later,” Quirrel promised. With great care and only a small amount of hesitation, he placed the mask back on his head, making sure that it would be secure. “Thank you for, uh, your hospitality and your expertise. It’s much appreciated.”

“No, thank  _ you, _ friends,” the snail said. “You two have proven to be quite the visitors! I do not need anything from you now that the infestation in the temple has been taken care of, but do stop by and visit if you find yourselves nearby.”

“We will do our best,” Quirrel said, more out of habit than anything else. The whole area was… rather unnerving, to put it mildly, but the snail seemed to be decent company, not to mention quite knowledgeable. 

Quirrel needed more time before he could figure out whether he’d make those words honest or not.

_ I may not get a choice, _ he thought when he caught Ghost nodding from the corner of his eye.

Quirrel finally stood from the bench, mystified by the complete lack of pain that he felt. Another quick glance downwards revealed that the cracks on his exoskeleton were completely  _ gone. _ He felt no more pain either, just the slightest bit dizzy as if he had awoken suddenly from a deep sleep. He must have wavered because Ghost was suddenly even closer to him, their arms out like they weren’t sure whether to support him or prepare to catch him.

“A moment, please,” Quirrel said. “I’m fine, just… tired, I suppose.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” the snail said. “Magic like that isn’t self-sustaining. It must be drawing energy from you in order to use its powers. You know, you need not leave just yet. There’s still much more about the talisman that we could discover…”

Quirrel was tempted to stay. The mask  _ would _ be a great mystery to unravel, not to mention incredibly helpful. He wanted to discover all of its secrets, to learn every nuance it contained, to figure out how to actually  _ use _ it.

But… something held him back. Something in him that  _ really _ didn’t want to know. A part of him was scared about what he would uncover if dug too deep, telling him  _ no, not now. _

It made no sense to  _ not _ stay and learn more  _ now. _

And yet… 

“That is a very generous offer,” Quirrel finally settled on saying. “But the call of adventure pulls at me even now. I will certainly return, but for right now, I am sorely missing traveling.”

The snail sighed. “Yes, of course. I am sure that you will discover more of the secrets and abilities that it has to offer over time. Should you need anyone with magical expertise, you may always return and ask questions. Just so long as you’re willing to answer a few of my own in return, of course.”

“Of course,” Quirrel said. Ghost was now staring full-on at the mask, completely unsubtle despite their lack of expression and sound. “We’ll be moving on now, then. Once again, thank you for your assistance and knowledge. It has been… very interesting.”

“Oho, it certainly has!” the snail agreed. “Good luck with your travels and your goals, friends. Do your best to stay alive if you can.”

“We’ll try,” Quirrel said. Ghost was still staring at the mask. “Come now, we’re going to heading off now.”

Ghost’s gaze fell to Quirrel’s face. They gave a short nod before turning to the snail and signing  _ “thank you” _ one last time.

“Oh, I hardly did a thing,” the snail admitted. “Now be off before I try to convince our friend to stay longer so I may further examine his talisman.”

_ At least he’s honest about it, _ Quirrel thought. He tilted his head towards what he presumed the exit was and started walking towards it, Ghost following him.

Just before he stepped outside of the temple, he paused. He turned back to see the snail watching them go. “I am called Quirrel and my companion goes by Ghost,” he said. “I figured that I should tell you our names. You know, since we’re all friends now.”

The snail laughed outright, the sound the most genuine that Quirrel had heard from him so far. “A grand gift that trust is! I hope you don’t think me rude, but my kind guard our names fiercely, so I shan’t offer my own in return. Know that I greatly appreciate the knowledge, though.”

Quirrel nodded, not surprised in the slightest. He turned his back to the snail and stepped outside in full.

He was immediately greeted with the sight of even  _ more _ corpses outside.  _ Just how many bugs have died here? _

“This is… certainly quite a sight,” Quirrel said after a few moments. He went to let his hand rest on the hilt of his nail only to find it missing. “Oh, that is not good at all. I dropped my nail during that fight and now—”

Ghost waved their arms for a few seconds, getting his attention. They reached into their cloak and… pulled out Quirrel’s nail, fully intact. They held it out to him.

“I… still have no clue how you do that,” Quirrel admitted. “Still, thank you for grabbing it. I cannot imagine traversing these ruins without some kind of weapon.”

Quirrel easily took the nail from Ghost as they nodded. They seemed to stare at him for a few more moments, almost expectantly and with their mask leaning forward. When Quirrel only gazed back at them for a short while, they seemed to deflate slightly.

_ Ah. Right. I must still be somewhat drowsy, _ Quirrel thought. He reached out and patted Ghost’s mask. They perked right back up, leaning into the touch.

“I would have never taken you as the affectionate type,” Quirrel said, “but at this point I think that you exist solely to surprise me. Now come, let’s find some way to get off of this pile of corpses. Maybe we can venture back to the hot springs and recuperate there. I think that I am in desperate need of their warmth once again.”

Ghost nodded once Quirrel had pulled his hand away. They drew their nail and started to make their way down the mound. Quirrel followed, more than ready to rest again and go ever everything he had learned.

* * *

“—And that’s all that I know at the moment,” Quirrel said, finishing his explanation on the mask’s powers. “It is… a lot to take in.”

Ghost nodded solemnly, the warm water of the hot spring rippling around their body as they did. They had managed to find a breakable wall that led into the area they had first encountered Cornifer, though the bug himself had apparently left.  From there they had made it to the hot springs as quickly as they could.

Quirrel was feeling markedly better now. It amazed him just how much even a brief respite in the spring had helped.  _ Perhaps the springs have a magic all their own? I once would have made that suggestion in jest but now I am not willing to rule out the possibility. _

Quirrel sighed, sinking deeper into the water. “I must have known about the magic it contains at some point, but I can no longer recall such a time. It bothers me greatly and yet I could not bring myself to stay with the snail to learn more. I like to think that I don’t allow myself to be ruled by fear, but something about looking into everything  _ now _ feels so dreadfully wrong. I must sound like I’m losing my mind to you.”

Ghost frantically shook their head several times in response.

“Well, that’s something,” Quirrel said, somewhat amused. “Ah, but I’ve talked at length about what I was told. Tell me, my friend, what was the favor that the snail mentioned?”

Ghost signed,  _ “Attack.” _

“He sent you to fight?” Quirrel asked. At Ghost’s nod, he continued, “Was it a challenge?”

Ghost shook their head. Seeming to remember something, they perked up and scrambled to get out of the hot spring. They waved at Quirrel to ensure that they had his attention before jumping upwards.

They then released a great orb of blinding white energy that flew across the room until it impacted with the far wall, several stones breaking and falling to the ground.

“My,” Quirrel breathed out. He turned back to see Ghost looking fairly proud. “I’m taking it that ability is new? From the snail, perhaps?”

Ghost nodded.

“It seems we’ve both come away from the snail’s dwelling with newly acquired magic,” Quirrel said. “I must admit that yours is quite impressive. I would hate to be on the other end of such an attack.”

Ghost signed their thanks before sitting at the edge of the hot spring, letting their feet dangle in the water. They turned to stare at Quirrel for a while before pointing at the exit.

“Yes, I do think that I have indulged myself enough,” Quirrel sighed, slowly making his way out of the water. He picked up his nail and sheathed it as he addressed Ghost. “Take out the map when you have a moment—we’ll plot our next route.”

Ghost stepped away from the edge of the pool and easily produced the map from under their cloak before unfolding it.

“There are still a few places that we have yet to explore,” Quirrel said as he looked the map over. “I don’t feel a strong pull to any place in particular and if there isn’t an area you’d like to explore then we can simply choose at random.”

Ghost shook their head before pointing to a section on the map. Their hand rested beneath a pathway on the west side of the large room above the one Cornifer had been in, the middle one to be specific.

Quirrel wondered briefly why Ghost would pick that path. It wasn’t the closest of the unexplored areas they had yet to see and, for all intents and purposes, seemed completely random.  _ Perhaps that is the point? I took the shaking of their head to mean that they had a direction that they wished to go in, but it could have been them letting me know that they have no preference. Either way, it’s just as good of a path as any other available, so far as I’m aware. Perhaps I’m overthinking it. _

“That seems like a decent route,” Quirrel nodded. Ghost rolled the map back up and tucked it away again. “Shall we go?”

Ghost nodded once before practically bouncing to the exit, waving at Quirrel as he followed at a more leisurely pace.

“You’re always so full of energy. It’s remarkable.”

Ghost signed a quick  _ “thank you” _ before they trotted out.

_ I think that I may have started getting in over my head. And yet… I don’t think I can bring myself to regret it. _

_ Whatever else Hallownest has to offer, whether I am ready for it or not, I will face it and get the answers I seek. _

Quirrel nodded to himself at his silent promise before jogging after Ghost, eager to learn more and move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snail Shaman featured a lot more than originally planned because WOW is he fun to write.
> 
> Also, yeah, I'm doing some stuff with Monomon's mask—great job to those who caught on! The Quirrel comic really got me thinking about what else it could do and I feel like it'll really add something interesting to the story. There's still a lot Quirrel needs to figure out about it, though. I hope that you all like the change!!
> 
> As always, I hope that you enjoyed the chapter as a whole. Please leave feedback and let me know what you think! As always, you can reach out to me on my tumblr if you want to contact me directly!
> 
> Until next chapter!


	8. Acidic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onto Greenpath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this done a lil early and I'm posting now because I'm about to board a plane for a long trip, lol. Which leads me into my next thing: since I'm gonna be on vacation, next chapter might be late. Just a warning.
> 
> Now... THANK YOU ALL SO FUCKING MUCH FOR THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS AND BOOKMARKS. Y'all make my day with every comment you make (sometimes my week) and just. I cannot express how much I love your feedback and all the nice things you say :')
> 
> And without further ado, the next chapter! I hope you like it!!

Ghost was more than ready to leave the stony, grey terrain of the Forgotten Crossroads behind them and head towards Greenpath.

True, the Snail Shaman helping Quirrel had gone better than they could have possibly asked for, especially now that they had learned that Monomon’s mask had certified magic running through it—magic that was there to protect _Quirrel._

When Quirrel had told them that the Snail Shaman said that the mask served ‘another purpose,’ Ghost hadn’t even _tried_ to let Quirrel know what it may be. They didn’t know how they would go about doing it, even if they wanted to. And Ghost _really_ didn’t want to. Not yet.

They didn’t know if it was the right thing to feel or not, but they didn’t know how telling Quirrel would affect him or how they could explain how they had come across the information.

Besides, Quirrel would learn about it all eventually and he had refused to stay with the Snail Shaman to figure out more. Maybe he wasn’t _supposed_ to know yet.

Ghost really hoped that was the case.

But there was no need to linger on that thought! Because soon they would reach Greenpath and Ghost could meet the Hunter again.

And Hornet.

Ghost would be able to see their sister again.

They would see her stern and alive and menacing and well. They would see her surrounded by green, not orange and black.

Ghost wasn’t sure how they should feel about that, either.

On one hand, they desperately wanted to see Hornet again, to see her actually standing before them, not bound in the Temple of the Black Egg for all of time. They wanted to see her conscious and wielding her needle with the same lethal confidence and precision that they remembered all too well.

On the other hand, Ghost hated the idea of fighting her again. Before, Ghost had admired her as a respected foe, impressed by her prowess in combat and how easily she was able to maneuver throughout Hallownest. But now, the thought of fighting their sister and trying to hurt her while she attempted to outright _kill_ them…

Ghost didn’t like that at all.

Maybe there was some way that they could avoid fighting with Hornet completely? Quirrel could probably help them—he could _talk._ And Quirrel was always so nice and reasonable and calm that Hornet would just have to listen.

Ghost nodded to themself. It would all be fine.

But Hornet was still a little while away and there were other things to worry about. Like actually reaching Greenpath.

Ghost jumped off of the platform they were standing on, swinging their nail down and bouncing off of the gruzzer that saw fit to drift towards them. They landed gracefully on the ledge they had been aiming for, its sides home to a good bit of green overgrowth and vines.

Quirrel joined their side only a few seconds later. He immediately noticed the vegetation. “How strange. How is it that there is such rich and green plant life so far underground without any sunlight? Perhaps there are caretakers down here? Or these could be plants that are wholly unlike those on the surface? Another mystery to add to the ever-growing list.”

Ghost looked at the plants with new interest. Quirrel was right. How could these plants grow? They were pretty sure that the Queen’s Gardens was the way it was because of the White Lady. It was easy for Ghost to believe that a higher being who was basically a giant tree could sustain such vast amounts of greenery. Maybe her influence extended to Greenpath?

“Well, standing around here and simply staring at the leaves likely won’t reveal any answers to us, nice as that would be,” Quirrel said.

Ghost nodded, more than ready to keep going. They pressed forwards through the narrow arch, taking in the plentiful amount of shrubbery and sprawling vines that reached up the walls and across the pathway.

“Ah, a sign!” Quirrel exclaimed, heading over to the wooden plaque that stood proudly amongst all of the vegetation. “‘The Pilgrim's Way,’” he read. “‘Travellers of Hallownest, descend through verdant wilds and fungal groves to the city at this kingdom's heart. There all wishes shall be granted, all truths revealed.’ Now that is quite fascinating! A city at the kingdom’s heart where truths will be revealed? That sounds like a brilliant place to head to in order to obtain some of the answers we seek! And ‘verdant wilds’ part! That may very well refer to the area we’re heading to now, wouldn’t you say? This is certainly the most amount of green that I have seen in a long time. I can’t say that I have the slightest idea as to what ‘fungal groves’ refers to, but I am sure that if we press forwards that we will find out soon enough! This is very exciting indeed—some direction!”

Ghost couldn’t help but feel impressed by Quirrel’s analysis. They knew what the sign was talking about since they had been through the areas that it mentioned, but the first time they had read it they had dismissed it as being too cryptic and altogether unimportant. They had almost entirely forgotten about its existence until a few moments ago, let alone its message.

Ghost would bet a decent amount of Geo that Quirrel would be able to recite the sign by memory in a little bit.

“That is incredibly promising,” Quirrel said, stepping back from the sign. “I do so love mysteries and finding the unknown, but a large part of my joy also revolves around solving them and gathering information. I am very pleased to know that we seem to be heading in a direction that will shed some amount of light on all these unknowns. Maybe we’ll find answers to what that great stone egg was? Or why this area is so full of plant life? Why all of those poor grubs are trapped in jars? Oh, possibly even what’s happened to all of the once-dead bugs, or maybe—”

Ghost briefly considered heading forwards to take out the elder baldur that they knew would be blocking the path forward, but decided against it. Quirrel had asked them to let him know if they planned on getting into a fight and they didn’t think it would be very polite to make a pattern out of walking away when he started rambling.

Ghost stepped forwards and gave Quirrel a soft tap.

“—Or maybe even—oh, right. E-excuse me,” Quirrel said, bringing up his hand to cough lightly into it. “Why don’t I stop rambling for now so we can actually progress?”

Ghost nodded. Quirrel’s face seemed a little bit more blue than usual, but Ghost figured they were probably just seeing things. The light in this area was pretty different from that of the Forgotten Crossroads, after all, and Quirrel had looked just find when the two of them had left the Ancestral Mound.

Lighting aside, Ghost was ready to fight against the elder baldur, having gathered enough soul on the trek up to get off at least a couple Vengeful Spirit attacks. They led the way towards Greenpath.

Sure enough, the elder baldur entered their line of sight after a short while. A sharp intake of breath from Quirrel alerted them that he had seen it as well.

“That’s new,” Quirrel commented. “That shell it has looks quite formidable, even from a distance. Perhaps if we move quickly enough we can attack its soft underside? But this path is such that it will easily see us advancing towards it… hm…”

Ghost tapped Quirrel to get his attention before signing, _“attack.”_

“You have a plan?” Quirrel asked. Ghost nodded. “I see. Is there anything that I should do for my part of it?”

Ghost shook their head. They couldn’t think of any way Quirrel could help fight the baldur since he couldn’t attack from a distance. Besides, Quirrel was still bound to be shaken from the fight with the maggot and the whole revelation of Monomon’s mask’s powers. It would be better if Ghost just dealt with it on their own.

“If you’re certain,” Quirrel said at length. “However, I will join the fray if I believe it necessary. And know that at any point you think you could use my assistance, all you have to do is let me know.”

Ghost nodded even though they knew that they wouldn’t have any trouble.

It was quick and easy work to take out the baldur, firing off Vengeful Spirit and side-stepping the orange goop it splurted out. Ghost longed for the return of Shade Soul and a greater soul storing capacity, vaguely annoyed by the fact that they had fired off all of the attacks that they could and the baldur was _still_ standing. Didn’t it know that they needed to get to Greenpath? Didn’t it know that they had to see their sister again?

Ghost supposed that it had no way of knowing such a thing, but they still weren’t happy with it.

Instead, they impatiently waited for the baldur to spit out its small, round children. Ghost eagerly bashed into them with their nail, sending the tiny things flying back and feeling soul build up inside of them.

The elder baldur fell to them quickly after that, practically exploding as the last burst of Vengeful Spirit struck it.

“Well, that was certainly impressive.”

Ghost turned around at the sound of Quirrel’s voice, watching as he made his way towards them, glancing around at the scattered remains of the elder baldur and the corpses of its younglings.

“Your new spell it rather potent, it seems,” Quirrel continued. “Not only does it increase your range significantly, but it also is powerful enough to dispatch of strong foe—or, what appears to be a strong foe. I had already figured that it would be useful, but the level of strength it has is somewhat greater than I originally thought. Not to mention the fact that you seem to wield it with such ease. Then again, perhaps you are struggling? I must admit that it’s not the easiest task to read the expression of your mask.” Quirrel said the last bit with a small amused huff.

Ghost probably would have enjoyed Quirrel’s light musings in just about any other circumstance, but right now they only felt the need to find Hornet, especially now that she was so _close._

Ghost reached out and grabbed Quirrel’s hand, tugging it and gesturing to the now-open pathway before them.

Quirrel’s eyes seemed to widen slightly before his face shifted into a perplexed expression. “You wish to press forward? So quickly? I… suppose that I’m not surprised, but this isn’t quite how you typically act. Is something wrong, my friend?”

Ghost hesitated before shaking their head. Nothing was wrong _yet,_ but that could change if Hornet just wasn’t _there._

“… Alright,” Quirrel said. “Let’s move on, then.”

Ghost resisted the urge to start _sprinting,_ the only thing stopping them being the fact that they knew that they’d be running right into acid if they did. And Quirrel would probably be worried about them again, which was less than ideal.

For now, Ghost forced themself to let Quirrel take the lead and set the pace.

“Oh dear,” Quirrel said once he reached the end of the path, gazing down at the sizzling green pool of acid below. “Now that certainly doesn’t look benign. I think it’s in our best interest to stay as far away from that as we possibly can.”

Ghost didn’t bother nodding, their attention focused solely on the nearest ledge. Quirrel looked back at them before following their gaze. He chuckled.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure that I’m boring you. Fear not, we shall venture forth—we won’t let something like a little acid stop us.”

With that, Quirrel easily made the jump to the stone ledge. Ghost waited until he had leaped to the next one before following. There was no sense in crowding on such small areas above an acid pit, not while they still didn’t have Isma’s Tear.

Within short order, Quirrel and Ghost had successfully navigated their way to the other side of the acid, landing on solid, plant-covered ground.

“Well that wasn’t too bad,” Quirrel said once Ghost had landed next to him. “I must admit, this is a welcome change of scenery, even if only for a short while. We’ll have to return some time in order to investigate so much plant life growing around a great pool of acid. But, for now, you seem to be rather anxious to keep moving.”

Ghost looked up at Quirrel and cocked their head. They _were_ feeling… anxious, they guessed. That seemed like the right word. But how did Quirrel know?

“You seem eager to move quickly and you’re… not as still,” Quirrel said. “Saying that you are fidgeting is inaccurate, but something about your movements lends you an aura of impatience.”

Was Quirrel really just that good at reading other bugs? Or did the ability come from Monomon’s mask? Ghost knew this was neither the first nor the last time they would wonder that.

“I have no problems with you setting the pace for now,” Quirrel continued. “Just so long as you don’t charge head-first into something without warning me or go too quickly for me to catch up. Does that sound fair?”

Ghost nodded as hard as they could, signing a few quick _“thank you”_ s to Quirrel as they did.

Quirrel chuckled again before stepping aside and gesturing. “Well, lead the way then, Ghost.”

Ghost only waited a second before taking off and jumping upwards, eager to clamber up to the path above them. Quirrel easily followed them.

The vegetation grew thicker and even more verdant as they headed upwards and further into Greenpath, the ground before them covered with roots and vines. It was easy now to make out the nearly constant hiss of acid.

“How is there this much greenery is a place like this?” Quirrel wondered aloud, gazing around every which way as he spoke. “I had thought that we might encounter a few more patches, but it’s only becoming thicker and healthier as we go! And the sound of all that acid, as well. Why is there so much in a place that seems flush with plant life? Not to mention how different this place seems to be from the Forgotten Crossroads—and so close by as well!”

Ghost supposed that Quirrel had a point. It was pretty weird that this much acid and underground plant life would just kind of exist in the same place. But that was something that the two of them could look into later.

Ghost quickly made their way to the end of the pathway their were on before jumping up from ledge to ledge once again, going higher and higher. They could hear the chirping of the maskflies behind them but they paid them no mind. Instead, they jumped one last time and immediately bashed their nail against the volatile mosskin on the platform. It seemed surprised by Ghost’s sudden appearance and started to shake and ooze orange. Ghost started getting as far away as they could before it released its putrid cloud of orange.

“More enemies,” Quirrel remarked once he made it up beside Ghost, his nail now drawn. “Ones that are completely different and seem to explode when stressed. Does doing that hurt them? Or are they immune?”

Ghost gave a quick, jerky shrug and waited for the cloud to dissipate. Once it had, they rushed forward and slammed their nail into the volatile mosskin once more, causing it to groan and its corpse to drop to the ground, the moss around its body flying off of it.

“What a peculiar bug,” Quirrel said, starting to walk towards the fallen volatile mosskin. Ghost immediately grabbed him and tried to pull him away. “What are you—?”

The volatile mosskin started to _shake_ and expel more orange gas. Quirrel’s eyes widened as he took hast steps away from it.

The corpse exploded and released its noxious could.

“… Well that’s certainly different,” Quirrel said after a few moments of quiet. “Thank you, Ghost. I can’t imagine _that_ would have been a pleasant experience.”

Ghost nodded and signed _“you’re welcome”_ to Quirrel. They then used their nail to point further down the area.

“Of course, let’s continue.”

And so the two of them press onwards, hopping over acid and taking out the mosskin and volatile mosskin they found along the way. The two fell into the familiar rhythm of fighting together, Ghost making sure to use the Great Slash before quickly scrambling away from oncoming attacks, Quirrel darting in while they were preparing their next attack.

If Ghost weren’t so fixated on finding Hornet, they would have enjoyed it or waited around for pats from Quirrel. The worst part was that Ghost _knew_ that Hornet was somewhere in Greenpath, but they couldn’t remember _where._ They were pretty sure that they hadn’t already passed by her, but the fact that they could have sat very poorly with them.

They shook their head. They couldn’t worry. Not yet.

Not until they knew for certain.

Soon enough, they had passed through the area. Ghost spotted the waterfall not too far away and the flocks of maskflies. They knew that it would be a short climb in order to reach the bench that was above them, but they didn’t even bother slowing down, the maskflies soaring away from them as they went by. Quirrel seemed to be saying something, but Ghost couldn’t really make out the words. It was fine, though. He didn’t sound panicked, just curious.

Ghost only realized that they were running when they had to skid to a halt at the ledge before them. They frantically looked around. Their eyes caught a flash of red and Ghost honed in.

There, standing on the far ledge with her back to them, was Hornet.

Ghost felt themself freeze over.

She was alive.

Their sister was alive.

Hornet was _alive._

Ghost wanted so desperately to cry out to her, to tell her how _worried_ they had been, how much they _cared_ for her. They wanted to—they wanted—

They wanted to let her know how much they _loved_ her.

But they couldn’t. Not without a voice to cry out or the signs to perform.

The thought still didn’t stop them from hopping down and racing forwards, though. Hornet was so _close,_ she was right _there._ Ghost leaped up, hoping against hope to just _make_ the jump to her, so that—

“Ghost!”

Hornet turned around at the sound of Quirrel’s cry.

Her gaze landed on Ghost.

And just like that, she rushed back and out of sight asGhost began falling.

Hornet had been so _close._

Ghost landed on one of the ledges clumsily, causing them to pitch over and fall in a graceless heap upon the ground.

Their sister had been so tantalizingly close.

And yet… 

She was still so very far away.

Ghost _wished_ that they could cry. They wanted their sadness to flood out of them because it just _ached_ and _burned._

It was so much worse than the Infection had ever felt.

“Ghost? Ghost!”

Ghost managed to turn their head enough to look at Quirrel, not bothering to pick themself up off of the ground.

“Ghost, are you alright?” Quirrel asked, something bordering on fear and concern seeping into his tone.

Ghost couldn’t find it in themself to move.

Of course Hornet wouldn’t recognize them. She hadn’t even _met_ them yet. Ghost had _known_ that. They had already been planning around that. But seeing her, standing there tall and proud… 

Ghost had somehow forgotten everything else.

Quirrel was still talking, his voice rising in volume and intensity. Ghost tried to dredge up the effort to stand up or nod their head or do _something._

They couldn’t.

They just wanted to lay there until… until something. They didn’t know what, yet.

They just didn’t want to move.

Not yet.

So they didn’t.

Suddenly they felt hands on their body. Was it an enemy? Ghost didn’t react. It didn’t hurt yet, so they let themself be picked up by the gentle appendages.

They soon found themself being held up to something and the arms wrapping carefully around them to support their body. Their head fell into the solid warmth they were being held against.

“Don’t worry, it will be alright. I’ll find somewhere for you to rest. This is all going to be fine.”

That was Quirrel’s voice.

He must have picked them up. He was carrying them right now.

He was warm.

Ghost felt a wave of calm and exhaustion crash over them, going fully limp in Quirrel’s arms.

It would be alright. Maybe not now, but… Quirrel had said that it would be alright.

Ghost believed him.

They felt their consciousness slipping as Quirrel started moving.

They let the darkness wash over them, secure in the knowledge that Quirrel would protect them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of the Hornet appearances!! I'm love that gal.
> 
> Also rip Ghost with their anxiety attack. Too Many Emotions for a Smol vessel that's still new to them.
> 
> As always, I love for your comments and kudos and bookmarks. I appreciate all feedback!! Thank you all so much for reading and have a wonderful day!


	9. Channel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel deals with the aftermath of Ghost collapsing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's nine chapters in the bag! Hell yeah! This one is going up a lil earlier than usual because Time Zones. It also may not be the best (it took a while to get through some parts) but I hope that ya'll like it.
> 
> Quick thing: ya'll have a lot of cool and interesting theories about how Monomon's mask works!! For now, I'm going to keep that information to myself, but rest assured that you'll definitely learn more about it as Quirrel himself does (you'll also learn a lil more about it this chapter but shhhhhh).
> 
> ALSO: big shoutout once again to [eeveecat1248](https://eeveecat1248.tumblr.com) for making beautiful fanart for the last chapter!! You can [find it here!!!](https://eeveecat1248.tumblr.com/post/186756865836/)
> 
> And once again, thank you all so very much for your kind feedback, your support, kudos, and bookmarks. All of it means the world to me.
> 
> In any event, please enjoy this chapter!

Quirrel was doing his absolute best to not fall apart at the seams.

It had been a long day, between the fight against the knightly imposter, dealing with the enigmatic snail, and discovering that the mask he wore was in fact a  _ talisman. _ It was a lot for one bug to take in and process over such a short period of time.

He had decided pressing forward would be best, trying to distance himself from the location of the fight and following the call of adventure that seemed to insist that he continue seeking out more wonders. And it had been going well! The sign that he had stumbled upon—the one that spoke of truths being revealed in a city at the heart of the kingdom—had practically left him quivering with excitement. Then there was all of the plant life that was completely  _ underground _ and coexisting alongside great pools and pits of acid. Quirrel would  _ love _ to find some sort of research on the phenomenon, maybe even conduct his own. Everything here was so just so mystifying and Quirrel loved it—though he could have done without the exploding corpses. 

And then Ghost had gone running towards the bug cloaked in red who wielded a needle.

Quirrel had easily recognized her as his assailant from the windy cliffs on the border of Hallownest. Although their fight had been short, she had moved with the agility and grace of a seasoned warrior, her needle swift and dangerous.

Seeing Ghost jump up towards her had alarmed Quirrel a great deal, so much so that he had called out— _ like the great fool I am _ —and alerted her to their presence. Luckily, she had simply jumped back and vanished into the brush instead of drawing her weapon and fighting. Quirrel had been relieved.

Then Ghost had hit the ground and stumbled before crumbling into an unmoving heap.

Quirrel felt his heart jump into his throat, frozen in place and simply staring at Ghost’s body laying on the ground. Then his whole stomach  _ dropped _ and he started scrambling downwards, trying to reach Ghost as quickly as he could. 

“Ghost?” Quirrel called out the moment he landed by them. He dropped to their side, leaving his hands hovering over Ghost, unsure of what to do with them. “Ghost? Ghost!”

Ghost’s head moved slightly, but that was  _ it. _

Quirrel frantically called out Ghost’s name over and over, hoping for some kind of response,  _ anything _ at all.

Ghost remained still and silent. Quirrel felt an icy chill crawl up his spine.

_ This is doing nothing but wasting time, _ Quirrel realized, the thought breaking through his mind’s frenzied panic.  _ Just staying out here in the open above the acid and where an enemy could easily charge at us… it isn’t likely to end well. We need to get somewhere safe. _

Quirrel took in a shaky breath before he went to carefully lift Ghost up, placing both hands under them to support their body. Quirrel felt the same chill seep from Ghost’s shell and into his hands, but he hardly noticed it, moving Ghost’s body to cradle it against his chest.

“Don’t worry, it will be alright,” Quirrel breathed out. “I’ll find somewhere for you to rest. This is all going to be fine.”

Quirrel wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Ghost or himself more with his words.  _ Probably both of us. _

He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but Quirrel swore that after he spoke that Ghost’s body lost some of its tension, limply relaxing into him. He dearly  _ hoped _ that was what had happened.

Quirrel shook his head.  _ Stop overthinking it. Focus. Pressing forward into the unknown like this would be foolish, so retracing our steps it is. Dirtmouth and the stag station are both too far away. The hot springs? Not an ideal option given their distance, either. I thought that I might have seen something above us not too long ago, perhaps a shelter? There isn’t any acid in there, at least. I can get us back there, at the very least. If that proves unhelpful, I can consider backtracking further. _

Quirrel took a quick breath in before tightening his hold on Ghost. He made the few, quick jumps back upwards, only sparing a brief moment to glance at the empty space where the needle-wielding bug had been.  _ Hopefully she isn’t planning on doubling back. That would  _ not _ end well for us. _

Quirrel moved swiftly, doing his best to not jostle Ghost too much. He was back to the point where Ghost had raced forward in short order, craning his head back and squinting at the vegetation above him.  _ Now where was—there! That was the glint of some kind of metal. If we’re lucky, it will be somewhere to rest. _

Quirrel only had to jump upwards a few times before he reached a rather tranquil scene: a black, metal bench sitting atop the greenery that was now commonplace. A stream of water fell not too far behind, the gentle murmur it created only further adding to the peaceful ambience. Quirrel was sure that under other circumstances, he would have simply stood there, taking in the calm as a wonder in its own right.

Instead, Quirrel found himself rushing over to the bench to gently lay Ghost on it, the small, chirping bugs flying off as he startled them. Once Ghost had been safely placed on the bench, Quirrel stood up straight and took a step back.

“… Now what?” Quirrel asked. He received no answer—unsurprising, but certainly not helpful.

_ What could have even caused this? They were perfectly fine one moment and then the next they’re completely unconscious. I didn’t see  _ her _ do anything, but I could have missed something. Or maybe it was something else entirely? It’s impossible to say. Oh, I do  _ not _ like this, not one bit. _

Quirrel could feel his hands  _ itching _ to do something, but he didn’t know what he possibly  _ could _ do. The restless anxiety continued to build inside of him.

_ Cause doesn’t matter. I need to help them. Somehow. I need to find some way to get them back up and well again. Finding the proper plants and herbs to help them would take too long, and that’s assuming that the ones I know of even grow here. There has to be something that I can do to help them, I know it. It feels like trying to say a word that’s on the tip of my tongue—I know that I know it, I simply can’t remember exactly what it is! _

Quirrel pressed his hands to his face and smothered a growl of frustration. His head was  _ pounding, _ the now-familiar fog adding to his turbulent thoughts.  _ Why this? Why now of all times? I just need to find a way to heal them! _

Quirrel’s mind swirled in an incomprehensible mix of worry and frustration before he felt something click into place.

_ My mask—the talisman—it can… heal me. I know that. Could it… heal others? Could it heal Ghost? _

Quirrel was more than ready to dismiss the thought as wishful and desperate thinking on his part, but for some reason it just felt  _ right. _ It was like knowing the answer to a question, knowing that you were correct, but unable to recall how or why you had learned the appropriate information.

_ What am I doing, going off of a feeling? That can’t possibly work. Can it? I… I don’t know. _

It was only when he stopped that Quirrel realized he’d been pacing in front of the bench. Ghost was still lying there, unmoving and lifeless.

_ … It’s a shot in the dark at best, if that at all. But… I don’t have much to lose from simply trying, do I? And it  _ feels _ like it will work… _

After a few more moments of mulling it over. Quirrel nodded to himself.  _ It is worth a quick attempt, at the very least. And if that fails… I’ll have to be very careful on my way back to the snail or the hot springs. _

Quirrel took in a deep breath and stepped towards Ghost’s prone figure. He stared for a second or two before letting his hand rest on the top of Ghost’s head. He wasn’t sure why the action felt like something that he should do, but he figured that he may as well go along with it at that point.

Quirrel closed his eyes and tilted his head down slightly. He tried to remember how it felt when his mask had been healing him in the snail’s temple but came up blank. He had been far too caught up with the snail and Ghost’s whereabouts at the time, not taking notice of how he had been feeling.

_ The snail said that the mask drew from my own energy to power its abilities. So I have that much, I suppose. _

With no small amount of hesitance and incredulity, Quirrel focused on his body and concentrated on its every little twitch and whatever he could feel. He took in several slow breaths before visualizing the energy that fed him flowing towards the mask then back down through his arm and hand into Ghost.

_ … This is insane. It’s not going to— _

Quirrel took in a sharp breath and his eyes shot open as he felt something inside of him _ move. _ It felt like…  _ something _ was flowing through him, warm and sparking across and  _ in _ his body.

Quirrel snatched his hand his hand and the feeling cut off. He scrambled to remove the mask just in time to see its glow fade.

_ Alright, still insane. But maybe not as useless as I thought. _

Quirrel quickly put the mask back on his head and placed his hand on Ghost again. He steadied himself, concentrating on channeling his energy once more. The same feeling of  _ movement _ flowed through him, foreign yet strangely familiar. 

Quirrel squeezed his eyes shut, focusing only on healing his friend. He didn’t know how much time was passing, nor did he care.  _ This has to help Ghost. Just keep concentrating. You’re doing it. You’re using magic to help them. You’re— _

The flow stopped.

No warning, no gradual slowing. It was like something had completely cut off the magic.

_ What? No, I was  _ helping _ them! I need to heal Ghost— _

That was when Quirrel felt his legs buckle and he tumbled to the ground.

_ What in the world—? _

Quirrel went to stand up.

He managed to maneuver enough to lay on his front before he couldn’t bring himself to move again.

He felt  _ exhausted. _ It was like he was only half-awake; he knew that he could move if he  _ really  _ wanted to. He just… didn’t want to.

_ The magic, _ Quirrel realized.  _ I… may have overdone it. Maybe? I don’t have… a point of reference. Maybe I could… could…  _

Quirrel’s eyes closed as his fatigue finally overtook him, the world around him fading.

* * *

When Quirrel regained consciousness again, it was with no small amount of grogginess and disorientation. He groaned unintelligibly, batting away haphazardly at chilly something that was tapping on him.

The tapping stopped before resuming with greater urgency, gentle but unrelenting.

“Hmm, ’m ’wake,” Quirrel managed to slur out. He brought a hand to rub at his aching head, feeling as though he was moving it through honey. “Wha’ izzit?”

The tapping stopped again and, this time, it did not resume. Quirrel was grateful for that.

He heard something move from where he had been being tapped—maybe patted was a better word?—and make its way towards his head. Quirrel forced his eyes to open.

Ghost’s empty gaze bored into them.

And just like that, Quirrel recalled what had happened and shot upwards. His efforts were rewarded with a solid  _ smack! _ as his head crashed into Ghost’s. Ghost went reeling back and Quirrel turned onto his side and curled up, clutching at his head and groaning. Ghost’s mask was hard as rock.

Once the pain had (mostly) subsided, Quirrel carefully sat up to look at Ghost. They were absently rubbing the top of their head, seemingly staring at the ground before them. From what Quirrel could tell, they were largely unharmed.

“Well, that certainly wasn’t one of my better moments,” Quirrel said, only half-joking. Ghost’s head came up to look at him. “I apologize for moving so suddenly—I wasn’t thinking.”

Ghost shook their head slightly before trotting back over to Quirrel. They paused before cocking their head to one side and, after another moment, gestured towards the bench and then several other points in the surrounding area. Once they had, they turned back to Quirrel and let their head fall even further to the side.

Quirrel stared for a few seconds, trying to interpret what Ghost was asking. “Are you trying to ask where we are?”

Ghost shook their head quickly and let their head drop down, one of their hands coming up to tap at their mask, obviously contemplating their next tactic.

Quirrel couldn’t help but be slightly confused by that.  _ Even if that wasn’t the question they were trying to ask, wouldn’t they wish to know? They rushed through so quickly that they couldn’t have possibly gotten a decent look at everything. Or maybe they did? But that just seems so unlikely… _

Ghost still seemed to be trying to figure out how to get their inquiry across. Quirrel decided to venture another guess.

“Do you… want to know how we got here?” Quirrel asked. 

Ghost’s head snapped up before they started to nod rapidly.

Quirrel couldn’t help but feel a little lighter at Ghost’s excited movements, especially after seeing them so  _ still _ such a short time ago. “Well, after you… collapsed, I picked you up and managed to bring you back here—I thought that I had spotted something up here and was quite relieved to find a bench.”

When Quirrel paused, Ghost cocked their head to one side again, a request for Quirrel to go on.

“I then, um,” Quirrel took a moment to cough sheepishly into his fist, “decided to attempt to heal you using my newfound magic—or rather, the mask’s magic, I suppose. I… think that it worked? I know that something happened but I am unsure as to what. How are you feeling?”

Ghost stopped to consider how to answer before they seemed to nod themself. They then started bouncing up and down so quickly that they were practically  _ vibrating. _

Quirrel let out a quick burst of laughter at Ghost’s pantomiming. “I am going to take that as meaning you feel quite energetic and refreshed, then.”

Ghost nodded.

“Good, good,” Quirrel said. He felt something in him—something that he hadn’t even realized was tensed, relax.  _ I’m glad that they’re better now. I wasn’t sure about using the mask in such a manner, but it’s certainly good to know that it has such a helpful capability. Still, I… probably shouldn’t use it that much in one go again unless I wish to pass out again.  _

_ … What would have happened if I hadn’t stopped? Would it have drained me dry until I had nothing left? Or maybe it would have— _

“It stopped itself,” Quirrel breathed out, eyes going wide with the realization. Ghost shook their head before letting it fall to the side again. “The mask, I think that it has a failsafe of some sort. It won’t allow me to drain myself fully.  _ That’s _ why it suddenly cut itself off, to protect me. And that makes sense with what the snail told us its purpose is. What a fascinating relic…”

Quirrel managed to catch himself before he kept on rambling, but it was a near thing. He turned his focus back to the matter at hand and let his gaze rest on Ghost again. “Do you… know what happened? Why you collapsed?”

Ghost was still and silent for a good while. They then gave a slow shake of their head and a small shrug.

“So you’re not entirely sure,” Quirrel said. Ghost nodded. “It must have something to do with the bug in red though, yes? I know that she is indeed fearsome… do you think she did something?”

Ghost began to shake their head rapidly before stopping it and letting it fall to the side.

“A question?” Quirrel asked. When he got a nod, he continued, “About what?”

Ghost hesitated for a few moments before they put their hands by the base their horns, moving their hands up and then down again in triangle-like shapes. They then jumped backwards, only surprising Quirrel a little bit with the sudden movement, and let their head fall to the side once they had successfully landed.

“The bug in red?” Quirrel guessed. Ghost nodded as they made their way back towards Quirrel. “What about her?”

Ghost pointed at Quirrel.

“Her and me?” Quirrel asked. Ghost nodded. “Are you… asking how I know of her?”

Another nod.

“Ah, well,” Quirrel back reached and lightly scratched the back of his neck, “she attacked me.”

Ghost gave a full body  _ flinch _ at that, their hand flying to their chest.

“I wasn’t harmed!” Quirrel hurried to reassure his worried friend. “She said that she sought to drive away those who wished to desecrate the ruins of Hallownest and did not believe me when I told her that I was simply a traveler who wished to view its ancient wonders in peace. She attacked me and we were only engaged in combat for a short time before she… hit my mask… huh. I had wondered what the snail meant by saying that the mask worked as a shield, but I think I know what he meant now. Interesting. Was it hampered before? Or did it temporarily activate in the face of danger? Perhaps—”

Quirrel was brought out of his thoughts when Ghost caught his eye by frantically waving their arms to grab his attention.

“Excuse me,” Quirrel said. “I keep getting caught up in wondering how the mask works. Perhaps I should have stayed with the snail longer… ah, but that’s neither here nor there at the moment. In any event, she landed a blow to my mask and it failed to do anything to me. She must have seen something because the next thing I knew she was retreating, saying something about how I might find someone waiting. I have yet to make any sense of her cryptic warning—as near as I can tell, she was referring to the possessed bugs that wander the ruins, but that doesn’t seem to fit. I hadn’t thought that I would see her so soon again.”

Ghost just stared blankly at him.

“So she didn’t do something similar to you when you entered?” Quirrel asked, just to be sure.

That seemed to snap Ghost out of it and had them shaking their head faster than Quirrel had ever seen before.

“Do you know her from somewhere else then?”

A pause, just a second too long, and then Ghost was shaking their head again.

Quirrel blinked at Ghost, surprised.  _ I don’t know why I was expecting Ghost to know her. Maybe it was because of the way they jumped towards her? Their interest in her? I can’t see them lying about something like that, especially when they would have nothing to gain from it. Yet something in me doesn’t fully believe them. I must still be on edge from earlier—I’m being overly paranoid. _

“Well, it’s likely for the best,” Quirrel settled on saying. “I must admit that I am quite wary of her and I believe it’s in our best interest to not engage her; I have no desire for unnecessary conflict.”

Ghost nodded their agreement rather quickly, something that Quirrel was thankful for. He felt less tense knowing that Ghost was of the same mind as him in this matter.

“In any event,” Quirrel started as he climbed back onto his feet, “our journey is far from over. I still wish to keep exploring. I’m assuming that you do, as well?”

Quirrel received another nod.

“Brilliant,” Quirrel chuckled. “Let’s hope that we can keep the passing out to a minimum, hm?”

Ghost nodded once again and drew their nail.

“Then let’s be off.”

* * *

Quirrel was on high alert as he and Ghost pressed deeper into the verdant wilds, scanning the greenery for anymore flashes of red. He sincerely hoped that the red-cloaked bug would leave them alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to think that she would.

Ghost, on the other hand, seemed to be less focused than usual. There was an additional moment before they threw themself forward towards an enemy, a slight startle when Quirrel called for them, a slight lag between the time Quirrel moved and they did.  _ They must have been more rattled by their encounter than they realized. I’ll give them some time to think it over, but if this continues then I’ll have to talk to them about it. _

For now, though, Quirrel had caught the sound of some rather familiar humming.

“You know,” Quirrel said, “I think a map sounds wonderful right now. Wouldn’t you?”

Ghost nodded and began to make their way forward, following the cheerful tune. Quirrel strolled after them.

Within short order, Quirrel and Ghost caught sight of the cartographer.

“Hail and well met!” Quirrel called out, raising a hand in greeting while Ghost flapped their arm around in a frantic wave. “It’s good to see you again, Cornifer!”

Cornifer looked up at the sound of Quirrel’s voice, waving back as the two of them drew closer. “And you as well, Quirrel and Ghost! It is nice to see familiar faces in a new place. This is quite the contrast from the Crossroads, wouldn’t you say? Such a humid, lively place. The roads twist and turn in the most wonderful ways... I've done my best to chart the area ahead, though I must admit some of the area's inhabitants proved quite a nuisance.”

Quirrel couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yes, I find the ones that practically explode to be particularly arduous to deal with, curious as their ability is. I will also freely admit that this much greenery underground has my mind running amok with questions.

“It  _ is _ all rather odd,” Cornifer agreed, “but it doesn’t quite interest me the way it seems to do you. I care more about the ‘what’ and the ‘where’ of things—the ‘why’ and the ‘how’ are sometimes interesting, but I find I’m much more drawn to the tangible.”

Quirrel inclined his head. “That’s quite fair, I’d say, even if I am quite the opposite. Ah, speaking of the tangible, you wouldn’t happen to have a map you’d be willing to part with, would you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Cornifer said, producing a rolled sheet from his bag. He held it out. “That will be sixty Geo.”

Quirrel blinked. “That’s a good bit more than it was last time.”

“This area is much harder for me to map.”

“Ah, I see. That makes sense. Let me just—”

Ghost held out sixty Geo, pulling it out of nowhere.

Quirrel and Cornifer stared at them until Cornifer started laughing.

“You are an absolute pleasure to deal with, Ghost,” Cornifer managed to say after his laughter had subsided. “Here you are, a map, just as promised.”

Ghost and Cornifer swapped their items. Ghost immediately pulled the map open and Quirrel looked over their shoulder. His eyes were instantly drawn to one area that seemed to have three pillars drawn on it. 

Quirrel pointed to it. “What is this?”

“Hm?” Cornifer hummed, looking up from storing the Geo away. “Oh, I found a structure there that seemed quite interesting! Something about it made me wish to add it to the map, so I did. I can’t say what their significance is, but I think you’d have better luck discerning it than me. That is assuming they have significance, of course.”

“Interesting,” Quirrel muttered. “I suppose that’s where we’ll head next, then.”

“I should have expected as much,” Cornifer said.

“Anything else of note that you happened to spot?” Quirrel asked as Ghost rolled the map back up.

“I ran into another traveller as I made my way down here,” Cornifer said. “I tried to call out to her as she dashed past but she barely even glanced in my direction. Not an appreciator of maps like you two and I, obviously.”

Quirrel blinked. “This bug, she wouldn’t have happened to have been wearing a red cloak, was she?”

“Oh, you’ve seen her then?” Cornifer asked.

“Briefly, yes,” Quirrel said. “I… do not believe that she is the friendly sort. I would suggest keeping my distance.”

“I appreciate the advice,” Cornifer replied. “I’ll keep an eye out, just in case.”

“That would be wise,” Quirrel said. He watched as Ghost stowed the map away  _ somewhere _ before turning back to Cornifer. “I think that we should get going. Still, it was good to see you again.”

Ghost nodded and signed a quick  _ “thank you.” _

“Ghost would like to thank you for the map,” Quirrel translated.

“Oh, of course!” Cornifer said. “May I ask how to say ‘you’re welcome’ in sign? I’m afraid I don’t know how to respond in kind.”

“There’s actually no sign that strictly translates to ‘you’re welcome’,” Quirrel said. Ghost’s head snapped to look at him. “Ah, right, I didn’t explain that to you, did I? The closest sign to that meaning literally means ‘welcome’ but it’s the most appropriate sign to use. Ghost, could you please show Cornifer?”

Ghost nodded eagerly and turned to face Cornifer, standing up straight before precisely executing the sign.

Cornifer copied the motion and said, “You’re quite welcome, Ghost,” as he did so, amusement coloring his tone.

“I hope that we get to see you again,” Quirrel said as he and Ghost started to make their way out of the nook Cornifer had settled in.

“And same to you!” Cornifer called after them. “Good luck and be careful!”

“We will!”

Soon they had made their way out, Cornifer’s humming following after them as they did.

“According to the map, going down seems like our best option,” Quirrel said

Ghost nodded and started trotting over towards the hole in the ground that dropped down into the next area.

Quirrel easily kept pace.

_ I can’t help but feel excited about everything despite what’s happened. Still, it never hurts to be cautious. _

Quirrel watched as Ghost jumped down without a second thought

_ … I’ll need to be careful enough for the both of us. _

Quirrel chuckled to himself and jumped down after his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achievement Unlocked: Use Mask to Heal Others
> 
> Quirrel and Ghost are going through a Lot right now, lol. But hey, Quirrel has figured more of the mask out, hooray! 
> 
> Also, more Cornifer! I'm taking some liberties with his characterization so lemme know if those don't really fit.
> 
> And, as always, I love every comment, kudo, or bookmark that is bestowed upon me and all constructive feedback is welcome!! Thank you so much for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Down and Down Into the Ruins I Go, To Lose My Mind and Find My Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751317) by [ThatDarnLakeSiren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDarnLakeSiren/pseuds/ThatDarnLakeSiren)
  * [Voidkin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629886) by [Redsnivy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redsnivy/pseuds/Redsnivy)




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